


Whiskey, No Chaser

by InkFlavored



Series: Happy Hour [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Atem is a bartender, Companion Piece, Eventual Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining, Smoking, Yugi is getting over a breakup, kaiba fans dont look, smoking is only mentioned no one actually smokes, u probably will not like it lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-28 16:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20428721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkFlavored/pseuds/InkFlavored
Summary: Yugi gets cut off at a bar in an attempt to drown his broken heart in whiskey. What happens next is an accident. Mostly.Companion piece/Sequel to Cut Off





	1. Yes, On a Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> *looks at my three longfic projects* uh oh
> 
> here it is!! the companion fic!!! i’m SUPER excited to continue this story because I wasn’t ready to let go when Cut Off ended and i've been secretly writing this since like ch5 sdfgfhg
> 
> quick rundown of the plans: same number of chapters, less words overall. won’t be quite as much of a honker as Cut Off, but it will explore some stuff the original story didn’t get to see. enjoy!!

Yugi hadn’t wanted a cigarette in a long time.

Well, that wasn’t quite fair. There was always a lingering itch in the back of his mind when he saw packs lined up behind gas station cashiers and in strangers’ hands, a little piece of him that whispered _Just one_. He couldn’t deny that for a half-second, he wanted to listen to it, to ask for what used to be his favorite brand, to walk up to one of those strangers and ask if he could bum a smoke – but _only_ for that half-second. The urge was easily squashed by years of practice and habit, and he lost interest as quickly as if he’d never smoked in his life.

But tonight, he’d been playing with his puzzle ring with his cigarette hand for an hour. Nonstop. He desperately wanted something between his teeth, too. He hadn’t felt it this strong since his first month clean. Now, tonight of all nights, was when that itch finally decided to come back with a vengeance. Not that it didn’t have a reason to be back.

From where he was lying on the floor of his room, he glared up at his phone on his desk. He’d known what day it was without the “helpful” reminder, _thanks._ Yugi was still kicking himself for not disabling those kinds of reminders two weeks ago – the kind related to _him_. It was a knife in the gut to see the innocent “Anniversary! <3” message that morning, and it had only twisted deeper through the day. As if he wasn’t already miserable enough.

No. Not miserable. He was done being miserable.

Yugi was angry.

_Beyond_ angry. He was livid. He was _outraged_. After six _years_ of pouring himself into this relationship, having to end it all so quickly felt like a worse betrayal than the reason he ended it in the first place. Like a set-up. He felt used, played with, as if it had been a game the whole time. A game that he had never known the rules for.

He sighed, one hand thrown across his eyes while the other thumbed at his ring frantically. His blood heated with frustration. That was just the thing: it _was_ a game.

Everything was a game to Seto. His company, his research, his relationships, his _life_. Everything was a game that he had to win at, or at least prove that he knew the rules better than everybody else. At first, it had been endearing. A little quirk that Yugi was sure he’d grow to love even more. Later, it was aggravating, a source of many, _many_ arguments. And now, it was a warning sign he felt like he should have seen coming years ago. Why else would Seto have refused to move in together unless Yugi started full-time at KaibaCorp? Why else would he have refused to let Yugi help on his newest project, unless he was playing at something?

Apparently that “something” had been Yugi’s patience. Because after a _month_ of no explanation, his patience had _definitely_ worn thin, and he’d invited himself to the development lab of KaibaCorp as he’d done countless times, to see what project was so important even _he_ couldn’t see it. It turned out his temper would be played with too, when he walked in on Seto bending his remarkably familiar “new assistant” over the nearest desk, and he—

Yugi banished the memory from his mind, already feeling his blood boil twice as hot. He clutched the ring in his fist, feeling the edges imprint into his palm. He hefted himself to his feet and swiped his phone off his desk, momentarily forgiving it for its action against him. He wouldn’t let himself smoke, not in a hundred years. So the next best thing was a stiff drink.

He put in a search for “bars in my area,” but paradoxically skipped past every single one that was less than ten minutes away. He didn’t want any lingering memories or familiar settings or people who would greet him by name. He wanted to drink himself to death in a place he’d never been before, so he wouldn’t have to worry about someone finding him to drag him home. 

“_Mrrp_,” squeaked Yami, the solid black cat appearing at his feet from wherever he’d been hiding.

Yugi picked up him up in one arm and bounced him back and forth as if he was rocking a baby. “Okay,” he said, “maybe I won’t drink myself _completely_ dead. I can’t trust anyone else with you.”

“_Mrrow_,” the cat agreed (probably), blinking at Yugi with golden eyes the size of quarters.

“You’re the best boy.” He sighed at himself.

Talking to Yami wasn’t new, but it only made him more aware of how he hadn’t gone outside his apartment if he wasn’t forced to. Like for work. Or groceries. And even then, he was pushing the definitions of “on time,” and, “out of food.” His friends had tried to get him out of the house – Honda had even tried _carrying_ him out – but he hadn’t really been wanting to do much except sulk. And now that he_ was_ going out of his own volition, it was to get a change of scenery plus some alcohol for his sulking. Fun.

Yami started squirming and complaining, so Yugi put him back down. The cat left the room with a flick of his tail, slipping through the cracked open bedroom door. Even his pet could tell he was in a bad mood.

Yugi continued to frown at the list of bars coming up on his phone. They were either too close, too familiar, or too well known. That’s what he got for living in the tech-center: never a single moment to himself.

He was about to give up and go to the liquor store to drink himself sick at home instead, when he saw the name of a place he – finally – had never heard of. It was a decent distance away, too; twenty minutes without traffic, and Domino _always_ had traffic. Maybe less on a Tuesday night at ten, but it was still a drive.

_Am I really doing this_? he asked himself. _Is this what I want to do with my time_?

He happened to glance up from his phone in indecision, and noticed a greeting card sitting under his keyboard. He could only see half of it, but his throat grew a lump when he remembered why he’d bought it in the first place.

It was a goddamn anniversary card.

Yugi swept out of his apartment as fast as possible, stopping just short of slamming the door behind him. He mashed his phone as angrily to make it give him directions to this place, and when he sat down in his car, he could almost feel steam coming out of his ears. Yes, this is exactly what he wanted to do with his time. _Needed_ to do with his time.

He prepared an apology in advance for whoever was going to be working the bar at the Pharaoh’s Throne that night, whoever they were. Because he wasn’t going to be leaving for quite a while.

Wednesday morning, he woke up angry with his phone for a _different_ reason: it had told him what time it was.

It couldn’t possibly be noon. He’d only just woken up, after all.

But, as Yugi peeled open his eyes, snacking his lips around the stale taste in his mouth, he noticed the light streaming through his window and Yami screaming from the kitchen and decided that maybe it _was_ later than he usually got up. He threw off his blankets, and found that he hadn’t even bothered to change his clothes from last night. Wonderful.

He shucked off what he was wearing and replaced it with the first things he yanked from his closet, padding out into the kitchen to feed his impatient cat.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled. “I’m up.”

Yami trotted over, continuing to whine, weaving in and out of Yugi’s legs as he stumbled around the kitchen to fetch the cat food. There were times Yugi wished he _didn’t_ sleep like the dead, and every single one of those times had to do with feeding Yami later than usual.

“Here you go, buddy,” he said, pouring dry food into the elevated bowls he kept tucked by the fridge. Yami pounced nearly _into_ his food, his meows cut off and replaced by frantic crunching.

“My turn,” Yugi muttered, dragging forward the coffeemaker. It was noon, but there was no such thing as “too late” for coffee. Especially not with how sluggish his brain was determined to be today. He thanked his lucky stars for days off, because no matter how much he loved his job, there was no way he was fit to work today.

_And who’s fault is that_? he thought, slapping himself across the mental wrist. Alright, so _maybe_ his phone wasn’t the one to blame.

He sighed at the bag of coffee grounds in his hand. He remembered _most_ of what happened the previous night. Near the end it got a little fuzzy, voices warbled as if they were underwater, blurry like an unfocused camera. He hadn’t gotten blackout drunk in quite a while, not since college, but he could always count on a faulty memory to make him confused about what he said after a bit too much to drink.

There was one thing he _did_ remember clearly, though. The bartender.

Yugi groped for his ring, half-smiling into the coffee pot as he closed the lid and pushed the _Make The Miracle Juice_ button. That guy was nice. What was his name again…? He remembered it was something hard to get his tongue around without trying to tack an extra syllable on at the end.

_Atem_, that’s what it was. Egyptian, for sure. He rolled his eyes at himself. _Obviously._

It was a little ridiculous how the place had been decorated floor to ceiling with about as much Ancient Egypt paraphernalia as it could fit, but charming all the same. Maybe that was his occupation and Egyptology major talking. He wondered absentmindedly if Atem would be at the presentation next week – he’d probably love it.

Speaking of the presentation, he needed to find something decent to wear. Isis had been _very_ clear about the dress code, and he had half a suit, _maybe_. Part of that missing half was a tie, but he still hadn’t picked one up yet. Hell, he might as well just go today. It’s not like he had anything else to do. Just a quick trip to the mall and…

Wait. His car.

Yugi tilted his head back to the ceiling and pinched his eyes shut. His car was still at the Pharaoh’s Throne.

The coffee maker dinged, but even the smell of heaven in a pot couldn’t save him from the retroactive embarrassment of being so drunk that a complete stranger had to call a cab _for_ him.

He got a hold of himself and poured the coffee. It wasn’t _that_ bad. Atem probably did it all the time. That thought only made him screw up his face. Hopefully he hadn’t been too annoying. He remembered word vomiting for a little while at the end of the night, but could not for the life of him remember what he’d been talking _about_. 

Yugi took the steaming mug to the couch and crossed his legs. He had to go pick up his car, so he would be going back soon. Preferably within the next thirty minutes, but time didn’t seem to be on his side today.

“_Mrow_,” Yami said, announcing his presence only seconds before jumping into Yugi’s lap and curling up.

Yugi stroked his back, thinking out loud. “I don’t want to be _that guy_, you know? The guy who was an impolite drunken mess. God, I hope I wasn’t like that.”

“_Mrow?_”

“We were getting along just fine, so it probably wasn’t that big a deal.” He looked down at Yami. “I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?”

“_Mrrp_.”

He sighed and took a long draught of his coffee. Regardless of how he’d acted, he wanted to thank Atem. Personally.

Yugi had come in and announced his reason for plopping his ass down in a bar stool on a Tuesday night within five minutes, and Atem probably got the same sad story from at least a dozen different people every day. Even though Yugi didn’t know what he’d ranted about, he would only need one guess to figure out what it was, another thing Atem probably got sick of. Yugi hadn’t been looking for someone to nod along or give him advice or even be _friendly_ – he was just looking for a place to fill up the hole in his heart with a decent drink. But instead he’d gotten sympathy, a pleasant conversation, a challenge, _and_ a ride home. More than he bargained for, in the best way.

He definitely needed to issue a proper thanks. But how? Just come in every day at the same time until he saw the guy again? No. Gross. He had to pick up his car so… just wait around until someone showed up? Ew. Even grosser.

Yugi grimaced and scratched Yami behind the ears. None of these ideas were even worth entertaining for longer than it took to come up with them. So what was he supposed to do? Just _hope_ he saw Atem again? Assume that he’d come to the presentation next week based on the _two_ things he knew about his personality? Leave a good review?

His eyes wandered, as if searching for an answer with the objects in his living room, but his problems wouldn’t be solved with a PlayStation or a loveseat or a random piece of paper or—

Paper.

That was it.

Yugi jumped up from the couch, sending an angry Yami to the floor with a disgruntled _mrr_, but he hardly noticed. Coffee in one hand, he rushed off to his desk to find a random scrap that didn’t already have something scribbled on it. He ripped a lined piece of paper from a notebook, holding it up triumphantly, and picked up a pen to match. 

He nearly skipped back to the living room, sitting himself back down on the couch. He slapped the paper down on the coffee table, put his drink on a coaster, and clicked the pen.

Now, he all he had to do was write something. 

_Dear Atem,_

Shit.

A whole two words in, and he had no idea what to write next.

The sound of Yami scratching at his tree, the tearing sound of cat claws on carpeting and cardboard, distracted him from his task. Yugi looked at his cat imploringly.

"What do I write _now_?" he asked.

Yami didn't respond, counting to scratch the tree with gusto.

Yugi continued regardless. "Do you think he'd even remember me? I should probably tell him who I am, right?"

He frowned at the semi-blank paper. What was something he could use to identify himself? He ran through their interactions from the night.

Purple eyes? No, that would be a weird thing to make him try and remember. And he was tired of having that be the reason people remembered him.

Near-identical twin? Close, but also creepy. It was hard to forget. Actually, that might even be _creepier_ than purple eyes. Why were all of his ideas so creepy today? 

"Yami," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm overthinking things again."

The cat, again, didn't respond. He abandoned his scratching to bat at one of the feather toys stuck to the side of the tree. A tiny bell jingled from inside the mess of feathers and plastic.

"You're not helping. I need help."

Yami finally looked at him, gold eyes wide and curious. "_Mrow_?"

"Oh, forget it. You're a different puzzle to solve."

Hey, wait a minute.

_Puzzles._

Yugi almost smacked himself. Of _course_. How could he have forgotten that? 

He wrote his introduction with one hand and took a long sip of his coffee with the other. He clearly needed it today.

_This is the puzzle-solving guy from last night, the one with the terrible ex._

He sat back, nodding at his handiwork. That was identifying enough, right? How many other puzzle solvers with ex-boyfriend sob stories could have walked in the same night he did? Hopefully not very many.

Next line. Probably a good time to apologize for whatever he might have said, and how uncalled for it might have been. He winced at himself.

_My friends say I'm an “affectionate drunk,” and I don't know how much I may have ranted, so I apologize on behalf of my drunk self._

Technically, his friends had never called him an affectionate drunk, but they _did_ tell him he became unbearably clingy to just about anyone within arm’s length and refused to shut up about anything, ever. That was the same thing, right?

But enough about him. Time to get to the actual reason for writing this in the first place.

_I do know that you got me a ride home, and made a really terrible night into something way better than the halfway decent drink I was looking for._

That line was the easiest one to write, because he didn’t even have to try and come up with some other way to put it. It was just the truth.

_I'm definitely going to bring my friends here the next time we go out._

_Thanks for everything!_

_Yugi_

He signed the end of the letter with a satisfying flourish and nodded at his handiwork. He couldn’t promise _everyone_ would enjoy driving out so far for a casual drink, but he’d at least attempt to drag them all along with him one of these days. Maybe once he was over all this “break-up” bullshit, so he could go out and actually have a good time instead of pretending to while thinking about something completely different. Some_one_ completely different.

_Not the time_, he scolded himself. He folded up the letter into neat quarters and wrote _To: Atem_ on the front of it. Perfect. Now all he had to do was get it there.

Jumping up from the couch, Yugi drained his coffee in one long gulp. He nearly skipped back to his desk to swipe a small piece of tape, one end on the note and the other half hanging off his finger. He took two steps away before he looked down at what was wearing. Which was “floor clothes.” Not happening.

He set the note aside and put on something that had a little less cat hair on it, only partly wondering why it bothered him so much. He was going to get his car and then immediately leave to pick up a decent tie for next week. _Who cares if I look a little rumpled?_ he thought, at the same time as he leaned over the bathroom sink to get a better angle in the mirror, forking his fingers through his hair to get to look how he wanted it.

Clearly, _Yugi_ cared. At least a bit.

_The hell am I doing_? he realized, scoffing at his reflection marching out of the bathroom. He plucked the note from where he set it down.

“Okay, Yami,” he said, stroking the cat at he made his way for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

“_Mrow!_”

“I love you too, buddy.”

He planted a very-unwanted kiss onto Yami’s head and punched in the directions for the rideshare he planned to take back to the bar as the front door shut behind him. No _way_ was he calling one of his friends to do it. Mostly out of embarrassment, but also because if they found out he’d gone drinking by _himself_, they were bound to worry. He was so sick of being worried about.

Well, his driver would probably worry about him taking a ride to a _bar_ at one in the afternoon on a _Wednesday_, but that was different. He was tired of being _fretted_ over. Yeah, so he’d been feeling like shit for a couple weeks. He’d get better.

Yugi walked out of the complex doors to wait for the car. Only then did he notice he’d grabbed his ring again, the flat of his thumb and the side of his index finger worrying the braided golden bands over and over. He dropped it.

He’d be _fine_.

He distracted himself with trying to remember the second half of the previous night. The one thing he _did_ remember was whiskey. A lot of whiskey. And opening his mouth with the intent of never closing it again, because had a lot to say about… something. Probably Seto. Not even probably.

Now that he was slightly more awake, the blurry images from that morning had become warble-voiced, moving pictures. Hazy around the edges, but clear enough for him to put the pieces together, at the very least.

He remembered Atem giving him a strange look and saying something that he remembered being upset about, and watching his empty glass slide away behind the counter. Just as quickly as he’d been dismayed, though, the memory changed to the kind of blissful happiness only a _lot_ of alcohol can give you. He remembered folding his legs up on the bar stool and waiting patiently to be payed attention to.

And he _got_ his attention. Sort of. Of all the missing or unintelligible dialogue from the night, he remembered that very short conversation at the end of the night with as much clarity as he could muster.

_You’re real nice_, his drunk persona had said. Sober-Yugi’s mouth twitched into a smile. Of all the things he could have said, _that_ was the best compliment he could muster?

Even clearer than the words, though, was the image. Atem looking very surprised – almost _nervous_ – in response to his slurred praise. And a single question: _What_?

_You’re nice_, drunk-Yugi continued._ And really cool._

Atem had continued to look surprised. _Uh—thanks?_

The Yugi in real life tilted his head at the memory, half-frowning. Those were the most generic praises he could have given, but Atem reacted like he’d been told to do seven backflips in a row. Did he just not get a lot of compliments? The half-frown turned into a full frown at that idea. Why _wouldn’t_ he get complimented left and right? He was obviously nice, with a good sense of humor, and… kind of cute?

Was that weird?

Weird or not, he arrested the train of thought entirely as the car he was waiting for pulled up in front of him. He got in the back, shooting the driver a quick smile, and they were off just as fast.

Yugi watched the sights of the city go by, the silence of the ride giving his mind space to think. Or not think. He played with the corner of the paper hanging off his finger. He hoped the tape would remain sticky enough to stay wherever he decided to put it. He’d hate for the letter to get crushed or blown away or something.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to stick it _anywhere_. He had no idea when the bar opened. Maybe there was somebody there already he could give it to. He made a sour face. No, he’d really rather just stick the letter on the window or something. Giving it to somebody outright – giving it to _Atem_ outright – would be kind of… awkward…

The car stopped. He had arrived at his destination.

He and the driver wished each other a nice rest of the day, and then Yugi was outside. On the sidewalk. Once again, at the Pharaoh’s Throne. The darkness of the inside betrayed the friendly-looking exterior; it was closed.

He hadn’t really noticed what the outside of the place had looked like last night, blowing open the doors in blind frustration. Now, he almost wanted to apologize to them, and their windows in thin black frames. And the Eye of Horus closed sign. That was pretty cute.

And _there_ was his car. Right where he’d parked it, in one of the few spaces dotted around the side of the building. He’d made the right choice coming on a weeknight. Parking on the weekends must be a nightmare.

And he still hadn’t moved. From the sidewalk. He was going to get run over by a bike.

Yugi took one step toward the building. Progress! He looked down at the note. He looked at his car. What if he just… left?

_What? No!_ he thought, aghast that he would even consider that course of action. _I didn’t write this thing for no reason_.

Fueled by determination to show his gratitude and spite for his own nerves, Yugi marched the rest of the way up to the bar and stuck the note in the very center of the door’s window. Anyone who wanted to open it would _have_ to see the note. Impossible to miss. Perfect.

At the same time, he wanted to take it down.

What if it was too much? He’d only known this guy for a couple _hours_, in the most superficial way. He didn’t want to come across the wrong way.

_And what way is that_? he asked himself, because what was the answer? What was he so _afraid_ of?

Nothing, he decided. He wasn’t afraid of anything. This was ridiculous.

Yugi stepped back to admire his handiwork. He refused to let himself even _think_ about taking it down, nodding sharply and spinning around toward his car. Done. He did it, and now he didn’t have to think about it ever again.

He plopped into the driver’s seat, buckled himself in, but didn’t start the engine. He let himself sit in the seat for a few seconds or a minute or three. His hand had returned to fiddling with his ring.

That settled it. He was definitely going to _wait_ on coming back down for drink a second time. Preferably when he could get over himself. Right now, though, he had to think about other things. Like ties. And getting one.

So Yugi started his car and pulled out of the parking lot, and he _didn’t_ think about the note again. He let it disappear into his subconscious mind, where it filed itself away as a memory.

But little did he know how much he’d be reminded of it in the coming days.


	2. It’s A Good Thing I Like History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna formally apologize for how long this took me: my bad

“Thank you all so much for attending, and I hope you enjoy the exhibit.”

Of the four people in the not-quite-an-audience, Yugi clapped the loudest from where he sat at the very back. His brand-new purple tie hung around his neck, unmade not going to _be_ made until it was absolutely necessary.

Ryou, in the center row of the plastic chairs they’d spent the last forty-five minutes setting up, gave a polite standing ovation. Marik clapped twice, loud, in the second row, his feet kicked up on the back of the chair in front of him. Rishid, next to Marik as always, give his sister a thumbs up. 

Isis kept up the professional act all the way down the raised stage, until the moment her feet hit the floor and she asked, “How was it?”

“Awesome!” Yugi shouted across the room, hopping out of his seat to get closer to the action.

“It was wonderful,” Ryou added, side-stepping out from the row.

“It sounded like a college lecture,” Marik said, then pretended to snore.

“Thank you _both_,” Isis said, blatantly ignoring her brother’s contribution. He “woke up” with an indignant _Hey!_ Her only response was to walk to the front row and shove his feet back onto the floor. “Could you hear me alright back there, Yugi?” she asked, as he reached a distance that didn’t require yelling.

“Loud and clear.”

“Wonderful. I suppose it’s time for one last inventory check. Ryou?”

“I’ll run down the list.” With a little nod, he stepped away to the archive.

She smiled as he left, then turned to Yugi. “I have to speak with the museum director about a guest appearance. Hold down the exhibit until I get back.”

His stomach clenched and he forced a smile. “No problem.”

“Remember, meet the rest of us the office by six-thirty.”

“Six-thirty, be in the back. Got it.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Isis stepped away, back to Marik and Rishid, who were quietly speaking about something under their breaths. Yugi turned on his heel and walked in the other direction. He didn’t even want to _think_ about the “special guest” that was supposed to come through tonight. He strained for anything else that looked interesting, staring at the displayed artifacts. He stopped in front of a Senet board. Yes. Fascinating.

“Did you text him?” he heard Marik say, as the Ishtar siblings left the exhibit.

“Again?” Isis asked.

“He’s probably forgotten by now.”

“He already said he’d be here,” Rishid pointed out.

Marik scoffed. “You know how he is. He’ll either be late or he’ll forget.”

“He wouldn’t forget—”

“Yes, he would,” Isis and Marik said at the same time. The rest of their conversation faded to silence.

Yugi didn’t have any idea who they were talking about, but that morning Isis had been in a huff about neither of her brothers inviting a cousin of theirs to the exhibit. They gave the excuse that he was “always busy,” or something, but she clearly wasn’t having it. Not even an hour later, Marik was sent damning evidence of Isis using a winky-face emoticon, presumably from the cousin. They all had a good laugh about it at lunch. All of them except Isis, at least. 

He stopped blankly staring at the Senet board when his phone buzzed in the pocket of his slacks. Then, he started frowning at the Senet board. He muted _everything _when he came into work. Even when he had to go home to change into his nicer clothes for the presentation, he hadn’t turned anything back on.

His phone buzzed again, unrelenting in its quest to get his attention. Curious, he pulled it out.

**(2) New Message: DO NOT ANSWER **

Yugi stared at that name for longer than he should have before swiping the notifications away. He’d delete them later. Much later.

“Are you alright?”

Ryou put a friendly hand on his shoulder, the other holding a clipboard with a a list of the exhibit’s artifacts on it. He put his phone away. “I _was_.”

“Was it…?” He trailed off, ending his sentence with the host of implications behind it.

Yugi shrugged the hand off. “Yeah, it was Seto. You _can_ say his name, you know, it’s not like he’s going to come melting out of the walls.” _I hope not, anyway. That sounds like something he’d do._

“I know. But if it’s still a sensitive topic, I don’t want to… overstep.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

The bite he tried to keep out of his voice must have been audible anyway, because Ryou took the opportunity to back off. “Alright. I’m going to take care of inventory.”

“Have fun.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Yugi laughed through his nose a little, sighing and pulling on the loose ends of his tie when he knew Ryou would be out of earshot. He just couldn’t catch a break, could he?

He wandered away from the Senet board, to the back of the exhibit. Part of Isis’ instructions to “hold down,” the area meant making sure nobody tried to sneak past the velvet ropes that blocked the hallway to the public, but he would only be back there for a minute or two. Or ten.

As the assistant to the Domino Museum’s Ancient Egyptian Art Conservator – that was to say, Isis – it was _his_ job to have at minimum basic knowledge of all the artifacts that related to _her_ job. But he always found there was more to learn, and he had the privilege to work alongside the people who could teach him. Everything on display in _every_ display had a story, something more to discover. It was like each one was its own little person with its own little life. But he couldn’t help but pick favorites, even as amazing as it all was, and this exhibit was no different.

Yugi took his time walking through the room that displayed the artifacts from the Nameless Pharaoh’s tomb. The huge slabs that had crumbled from the ancient wall towered over him, covered in ancient paintings and lines and lines of hieroglyphics, every bit as kingly as the person they were built to protect on his journey into the afterlife. The various jars and pots that were _supposed_ to contain the body parts of the mummy yawned in their emptiness.

That was the most fascinating part to Yugi: the pharaoh’s body had never ben found. Shocking the archeologists that discovered the site, the tomb didn’t even have a _sarcophagus_ – just a pedestal with an indented triangle. And dozens and dozens of little golden puzzle pieces, scattered around on the floor.

He smiled at the King’s Puzzle like he was greeting an old friend, the golden pyramid winking at him from its protective glass case. The big center piece was displayed proudly at its side, the Eye of Horus staring up at the ceiling. Yugi resisted the urge to unlock the case and pick it up. Hold it. Feel the grooves of the pieces between his fingers again. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge of how long it had taken to clean the thing. He wouldn’t want to get his nerdy fingerprints all over it before the big event. Instead, he ghosted his fingers across the glass, doing his best not to leave smudges on that, either.

There had been _one_ good thing to come out of Seto going nearly-radio-silent in their last month together, and this was it. He spent hours – sometimes entire days – trying to fit the countless pieces of the golden puzzle together. It had been an attempt at a distraction, trying to drown out one kind of frustration with another. And the King’s Puzzle was nothing if not _frustrating_. It might as well have had a will of its own, changing the pieces so they wouldn’t fit together at the last second.

“I’m still mad you didn’t give me magic powers,” he told it, as if it could hear him. “You totally owe me one.”

Predictably, the King’s Puzzle didn’t respond.

“You want to make my problems disappear?” He snorted and corrected himself. “You want to make my _problem_ disappear?”

If it wanted to, it didn’t say so.

“Come on, help me out here.”

He even tried tapping against the glass. It didn’t do much. In fact, it didn’t do _anything_. He sighed.

“Would it kill you to be a _magical_ artifact for a change?”

The King’s Puzzle sat innocently in its case, as if to emphasize the fact that it wasn’t magical, no really. The hole in the center of its face yawned sadly, the perfect fit for the piece lying so close – and yet so far away. Impossible to reach, but so tantalizingly near. Yugi stared at it, for longer than he meant to.

“At least you can _see_ the piece you need,” he muttered to it. “I don’t have any idea what mine looks like.”

He wished his life could be as simple as just adding an extra piece that was missing. But he wasn’t a puzzle, and neither was life. He was just going to have to tough it out, until…

Well. Until.

His phone buzzed again. He tried not to notice it.

Yugi bounced on the balls of his feet, quickly tying his tie into something presentable. The hour was almost upon them.

“How packed is it?” he asked Ryou, who was peeking around the door of the back office.

“_Very_ packed,” Ryou answered.

“As packed as we expected?”

“More, I’ll bet.” He pulled back from the door, swinging it shut silently. “I wasn’t expecting _this_ many people.”

Yugi tightened the knot around his neck. It was a little lopsided, but it was good enough. “You nervous?”

He eyed the door. “A little.”

“Lucky for you,” said Isis, thumbing through the script of her presentation, “I will be doing all the talking.”

“As usual,” Marik muttered, just loud enough to hear. She pretended not to notice.

Rishid, standing by his brother, pushed off the wall and came around to clap Ryou on the shoulder. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Ryou nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Even if you _did_ have to speak,” Marik piped up, “there’s no way you’d be half as bad as our cousin.”

Isis hid a smile with the back of her hand. “Oh, he’s not so bad anymore.”

“Did you _see_ him last New Year’s? You could practically hear his hands shaking. He’s a nervous wreck, at _all_ times.”

Before Yugi could ask if this was the same cousin that was supposed to be showing up tonight, the door clicked open.

“It’s time,” said the director of the museum, poking his graying head into the room. “Get on out there.”

“Thank you,” Isis said, striding gracefully to the front of the room. She held the door open with one arm, her script tucked under the other, and shot a smile over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

Rishid followed after her, then Marik, then Yugi pushed Ryou in front of him to leave the room last. He made one final attempt to fix his tie before turning the corner to step onto the stage.

The exhibit was packed. The rows and rows of little plastic chairs he and Ryou had set up turned out not to be _enough_. The number people standing in the back and around the edges of the seating area was at least three wide in either direction, and the people sitting _down_ were pressed shoulder to shoulder.

_Wow_, he thought, _that’s a lot of people_.

But scanning the crowd, he didn’t see the _one_ person he didn’t want to see. He relaxed. Maybe he couldn’t make it.

“Go Yugi!” shouted someone in one of the fronts, and Yugi whipped his head around to find the source.

It was Jou, of course, Anzu and Honda sitting on either side of him. They waved enthusiastically, and Yugi waved back, a little more subdued. He was sure Jou would have yelled at Ryou, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked like he was trying to tuck his head into his neck like a turtle.

Yugi took his seat next to his nervous friend as Isis made her way to the podium, setting her script under the microphone.

“First,” she began, just like she’d done earlier that day, “I would like to thank the Domino Museum for hosting this exhibition, and I would like to thank all of you for attending it.”

Yugi clapped along with the audience, leaning over to Ryou to murmur, “And thank you to Industrial Illusions for making you want to show up in the first place.” He snorted quietly, relaxing a fraction.

Isis continued with her introduction, explaining who she was, who they all where, and what the presentation would be about. Yugi was just waiting for the moment when she mentioned—

“Pictured here in one of the ‘Shadow Games,’ I’m sure many in the audience are familiar with—”

Yep, there it is.

He heard Jou _whoop_ like he was at a Duel Monster’s tournament, quickly followed up with Anzu’s harsh shushing. He shared a knowing look with Ryou, who looked a little less nervous than when he’d gotten on stage in the first place.

“I’m surprised no one else felt the same way,” Yugi mused.

“They probably do,” Ryou said, “but they’re more polite than Jou.”

He bit his tongue to keep from laughing, “Do you think he’s asked anyone to duel yet?”

“You think he brought his _deck_?”

“I _know_ he brought his deck.”

Ryou shook his head in the way only good friends can. “Of course.”

The presentation continued, the slides at their back flipping through many of the artifacts on display in the exhibit, and some that were remaining in Egypt because they were too fragile to transfer halfway across the world or too complex to replicate. Yugi picked out his favorites to Ryou, explaining everything he learned about it while he attended Isis’ meetings with the other curators for the Domino Museum. He could talk for _ages_ about the Nameless Pharaoh, but he held himself back for the sake of not distracting anyone (or himself) from the presentation at large.

All too soon, it was over. The polite “Thank you!” slide was met with thunderous applause and even a few people giving standing ovations. Just as quickly, Isis stepped down from the podium, the dimmed lights came up, and the audience dispersed to wander around the exhibit and look at all the artifacts they’d just heard about.

Yugi craned his neck to find the small group of his friends, but they appeared to have been swallowed up by the massive crowd.

“Come on,” he said, stepping off the stage gesturing to Ryou. “Let’s go find everybody.”

Ryou hopped down from the stage, and looked very happy to be off of it. “Right, before Jou tries to duel the carving of the Nameless Pharaoh.”

“Do you think he’d win?”

“Probably not.”

Yugi laughed at the sincerity, shouldering his way through the crowd. “He’s a better duelist than a _rock_.”

“Did you see that rock? It has a Dark Magician _and_ a Blue Eyes.”

“That’s fair. I don’t even think _I’d_ win against that rock.”

“You I’d give a better shot.”

Yugi continued to scan the crowd with his eyes, looking for any familiar faces. “What do I get if I win?”

“What would a _pharaoh_ offer as a prize?”

“His cool puzzle?”

“That seems fair. What about if _he_ wins?”

“He can be the King of Games. Duh.” _I’m not sure if I want the title anymore anyway_.

“I’m not sure that’s a good deal.”

“Fine, he can uh… Come back to life?”

“And how do you plan to give him that?”

“I won’t, I’ll just win.”

“Very sportsmanlike of you, Yugi.”

“I’m just _saying_—”

He cut himself off with a gasp at the sight of Jou, Anzu, and Honda wandering around the room. He waved both his hands in the air, hoping they’d be able to see him despite his tragic shortness. Ryou helped by waving his arms around too.

It got their attention, and they greeted each other with friendly hugs and high fives.

“This place is huge,” Honda remarked, “I can’t believe it took this long to find you both.”

“Well, it’s crowded,” Ryou pointed out.

“Yeah, that too.”

“We probably would have gotten here faster,” Anzu said, “if Jou hadn’t—”

Jou suddenly grabbed Yugi’s shoulders. “Dude you are not gonna _believe_ what happened to us earlier.”

“What happened?” Yugi asked, shrugging the hands off and started moving their small group down the hall toward the less-crowded Nameless Pharaoh’s display. He wanted to show them the Puzzle anyway.

Jou followed close behind, telling the story like it was a murder mystery. “When we were looking for you, we saw this guy who looks _exactly_ like you walking around. I mean, same hair, same face, same _everything_. It was so weird – I thought he was _you_ for a second.”

“Exactly like me?” Yugi looked over his shoulder at the others.

“He’s being serious,” Honda confirmed.

“You were pretty similar,” Anzu agreed.

He faced ahead again, gears in his head turning. Either he had more than one near identical clone in Domino or—

“Gentlemen, I believe I have somewhere to—Oh!”

Yugi was pulled out of his thoughts by Isis’ voice and then the rest of her sticking out in the crowd. She was waving at him and Ryou, beckoning them closer.

“I guess we’re going over here now,” he said, not entirely sure what he was getting into as they approached.

Isis was quick to drag he and Ryou forward by their shoulders, steering them through the crowd to stand next to herself, Marik, Rishid, and…

Someone very, very familiar. And nervous. He was definitely nervous.

“Atem,” she said, “I’ve been meaning to introduce them both to you, but you’re always busy, so before I have to take care of work, I’ll do it now. This is Ryou Bakura, he’s one of my assistants, he helps out Marik with language deciphering.” Ryou waved, and Atem waved back – _Atem_ waved back. He was _here._

Yugi tried to stop Isis before she could introduce him, but she was already going.

“And this,” she continued, “is Yugi. He does a little of everything, and he put together the King’s Puzzle when we brought it back to the museum.”

Finally, able to get a word in edgewise, he cocked his head and smiled in a way he hoped looked friendly. “Atem, you know Isis?”

Next to him, Isis shot her brows up. “You know Yugi?”

Atem laughed, but it was forced. He was giving anything _but_ direct eye-contact. “I didn’t know he was your assistant, if that’s what you mean!”

_How do _you_ know her_? Yugi almost asked, but Jou interrupted him before he could start. “Hey, that’s the guy!”

Obviously. “Yeah, I can see that, Jou. Atem—”

“You _know him_?”

Behind them all, Anzu piped up, “Okay, _what_ is going on?”

Yugi was determined to get this back on track. “It's not really anything, guys,” he promised. “We met one time at a bar.”

“My bar,” Atem blurted, still looking like he might try and make a break for it at any moment. “I own a bar. I'm a bartender. I served him.”

“Exactly. End of story.”

They were on track for about two seconds.

Isis suddenly spoke up, smiling widely at Atem – _How did she know Atem_? – and speaking in rapid Arabic. He calmed down just enough to look confused.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Atem responded. Yugi was very confused, and looking back at his friends, so were they. Marik and Rishid looked like they were watching a tennis match.

isis said something else – still in Arabic - and Atem’s eyes popped out of his skull. He responded in Arabic this time, clearly bothered by whatever she’d said. Isis said something _else_ in Arabic, and she hadn’t even made it through the full sentence before Atem was half covering his face with one rubbing his eyes. His response was half muffled. Whatever it was, Marik responded shortly, and the conversation dropped. Atem revealed his face again – distressed was an understatement.

Yugi was used to the Ishtars speaking Arabic. They did it all the time around the museum, and he even _liked_ listening to them talk, though he couldn’t understand them. It was a beautiful language.

But this looked like a personal conversation.

“Uh…” he started. “Should we go?”

“No, of course not,” Isis said. “I have to take care of some event scheduling. Why don't you all make friends?”

Yugi smiled to encourage the idea, ignoring the weird looks his friends gave each other, and the fact that Atem was apparently trying to set Isis on fire with a look alone. He wouldn’t deny he’d been thinking about going back to the Pharaoh’s Throne to try and get to know him better anyway.

“Sure!” he said.

“Wonderful.” Isis looked back to Atem, pointed. She said something in Arabic again.

“Isis!” Atem snapped. “Please!”

Well that couldn’t have been good.

She shrugged, not a feather out of place, and strode away. Marik clapped Atem on the shoulder as he followed. Rishid and Atem shared sympathetic glances and more Arabic words before he followed behind his younger brother, as usual.

And then it was just the six of them.

“What was that all about?” Ryou finally asked.

“My dearest cousin Isis,” Atem said, probably unable to be more sarcastic if he tried, “believes that I need a lot more friends.”

Yugi almost laughed out loud. _Atem_ was the cousin. Of _course_ he was the cousin.

“I guess she can have her wish, right?” Yugi said, trying to prod them all into maybe getting along for five minutes. “I mean, we’re already here.”

With how nervous he looked to begin with, Yugi half expected Atem to make some excuse to leave. But instead he said, “I don’t see why not.”

All around the group, Yugi saw his friends warm up to the idea. They were agreeing! This was great!

After a short round of introductions – and Yugi having to scold Jou for grabbing random strangers – they all seemed to be getting along just fine. They were already getting comfortable around each other.

“The Ishtars are your cousins, then?” Honda asked, before Yugi could ask himself.

“All three of them, yeah,” Atem said.

_What a family!_ Yugi almost said. Then stopped when Honda asked his follow-up question:

“Did all of you move up to Japan together?”

Yugi watched the tentative friendliness Atem that he’d grown during the conversation dissolve in seconds. “No,” he said, resigned. “I moved after they did.”

Egypt. Moving. That was the one conversation he had shied away from last week. Bad topic. Yugi didn’t know much, but he knew had to do something.

“Speaking of _moving_,” he interrupted, before it could get any worse, “do you guys want to go sit down or something?” He made sure he looked Atem in the eye, as direct as he could be. A silent question – _Are you okay_?

Atem didn’t seem to pick up on the question, as everyone started suggesting different places to go sit down, choosing instead to look mildly confused. Surprised, even. Yugi almost asked him out loud, but his several clicking sounds in quick succession drew his attention to the front of the room.

There was large crowd grouped by the front doors. They were all clambering to look at something, cameras flashing again and again. A _lot_ of cameras. Yugi really didn’t want to think about what that was.

“What was that?” Anzu asked.

“The special guest is here,” Atem answered. “I can’t believe she did it,” he added under his breath.

_Yeah, me neither_, Yugi thought.

Jou raised a brow. “’Special guest’?”

Atem shrugged. “Depending on how special you think gaming tech is, I guess. Isis somehow got the head of KaibaCorp to come down and take a look at all this.”

Of course that’s who it was. He was hoping to avoid this at all costs. He thought Seto’s absence from the presentation itself meant he wasn’t going to be there.

_“The_ head of KaibaCorp?” he asked, just to check. Just to make sure.

“As far as I know.”

And there went all his enthusiasm for the evening.

As his heart crumbled into the pit in his stomach, Yugi felt the space around him condense as his friends huddled to form a human barricade between him and where they assumed Seto was. Ryou put a hand on his shoulder, and he could feel Jou’s rage radiating off his likely-trembling fists. Yugi just stared at the tile floor, wishing he was a hundred thousand miles away from here.

“Do we, uh,” Atem said, “need to get out of here?” He was probably the only one who didn’t know what was going on – and that’s exactly the way Yugi wanted it.

“Please,” he mumbled.

Atem looked over their heads again. “I don’t think the front is an option.”

“We can take the back way out,” Ryou suggested.

“And go where?” Anzu asked.

Nobody seemed to have any ideas. Yugi almost said he’d rather just go home. Then—

“My shift is about to start soon,” Atem offered, tentatively, like he was trying not to offended anyone with the suggestion, “if…you all want to grab some drinks and take your mind off this?”

A drink sounded like a _great_ idea. And Yugi had been meaning to go back to the bar with his friends anyway…

What did he have to lose?

“That sounds nice.”

And thus, it was settled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> atem's POV: oh my god this is terrible. the worst outcome. please kill me.  
yugi's POV: wow this is great! new friend! :D
> 
> if you’ve already caught on to what I’m doing with the chapter titles, you get a high five


	3. Refreshments and Restrictions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s time for everyone’s favorite scene: yugi edition

Atem was bursting with friendliness when he asked, “What can I get for everyone?”

Yugi gestured around to let everyone else go first in placing their orders, squished in the center of the booth between Jou and Anzu. He was in a significantly better mood after the drive, and even looked forward to the rest of the night. Maybe he _wouldn’t_ need to drown himself like last week after all.

One by one, his friends called out their preferred alcoholic drink – except for Ryou, who was their usual designated driver on nights out. He had the biggest impulse control among them, usually the first to, “call it a night,” and force the rest of them home when he saw things get out of hand. Yugi was _pretty_ sure that wouldn’t happen tonight, but it never hurt to play it safe.

Yugi placed his order last, and watched Atem parrot back the list, pointing around the table, staring with Honda, “Alright, I’ve got an IPA, rum and coke, whiskey on the rocks, vodka martini – good choice by the way – and a Shirly Temple?”

“Perfect,” said Anzu, as everyone else nodded their confirmations.

“Great, I’ll have it all out in a minute.”

Atem went back to the bar and the table returned to their conversation about the coolest art pieces discussed in the presentation and on display – even if they didn’t get to look at it all for very long.

Everyone except Anzu, who tapped her nails on the table anxiously when she wasn’t making single-word comments.

“Something wrong?” Yugi asked, leaning over.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, folding her expression into a smile.

Ryou bumped her shoulder. “Just go talk to him.”

She looked at him as if he suggested she jump off a building instead. “Are you _crazy_?”

Yugi followed her nervous eyes to the bar counter, where Atem was putting their drinks together, ignorant to their stares. He flipped a bottle in his hand absentmindedly.

“What am I missing here?” he asked.

Jou snorted. “You missed the ride here, where she was psyching herself up to ask him out the _whole time_.” Anzu shot him an eyeful of daggers, and he cowed into his seat.

Yugi looked between his friend and the bartender. “Really?”

She whipped her angry gaze toward him. “What do you mean ‘_really’_?”

He wasn’t as afraid of Anzu as Jou was, so he stood his ground. For now. “I’m just saying, he looks like _me_. Isn’t that weird for you?”

Her anger was sucked away by her nerves again. “That’s part of my problem, honestly. But I mean—” She made a not-so-subtle gesture at the counter. “—come on, _look_ at him.”

Everyone at the table turned to look at him. Yugi was shocked he couldn’t _feel_ their stares, still mixing away without a care in the world.

_Either he’s oblivious_, Yugi thought, _or he’s choosing to ignore us._

“You know him, right?” Anzu suddenly asked, taking back the table’s attention again. She was staring hopefully at Yugi.

“I wouldn’t say I _know_ him,” he admitted. “We’ve only met once.”

“Do you know if he’s single?”

“I have no idea. Why would I have even asked that?”

She sagged in her seat. “I don’t _know_.”

Ryou tried again. “Why don’t _you_ ask him?”

“No way. I’m waiting on that martini before I do _anything_.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, not to be responsible or anything,” Jou added, “but decisions made with vodka don’t usually turn out well.”

“I’m not making the decision _with _vodka,” Anzu corrected. “I know what my decision is.”

“But you’re waiting on the vodka anyway?”

“Will you shut up? I’m just waiting on help, that’s all.” She glanced away and stiffened. Yugi looked that way and saw Atem coming around the counter…

And to a different table.

Anzu muttered angrily under her breath and Yugi caught Jou and Honda trying to hide juvenile smiles. He gave them both a pointed look.

“Look,” he said, turning back to his distressed friend, “I don’t know Atem very well, but I do know he’s a super nice guy. There’s no way this could go over poorly, even if he turns you down.”

She plopped her head on his shoulder and sighed. “Thank you.”

He patted her head like a dog. “No worries”

“So are you going to do it?” Honda asked.

Anzu sat upright and folded her arms. “Of course I am. _After_ I get my drink.”

The table made various exasperated noises – all except Yugi, who just nodded sympathetically. He could definitely understand the feeling of not even wanting to _look_ at someone he was interested in, much less speak to them about it. Especially a complete stranger.

He changed the subject back to the museum, for Anzu’s sake if nothing else. He was halfway through explaining to Jou what made this “Nameless Pharaoh guy” so important – “Aren’t there a ton of people in history we don’t know the names of?” “You are oversimplifying harder than a third-grade math teacher.” – when a tray of drinks was set down on the edge of the table and Atem started passing out glasses.

“Three, four, and _five_,” he counted, setting the final drink down and swiping the tray away. “Enjoy.” He started for the counter again.

Jou somehow already had a mouthful of drink to swallow before he said, “Hey, hey, stay right there.”

Atem glanced to the side, as if Jou could be talking to someone else. “Me?”

“Yeah, man, you invited us all here. Come hang out.”

Yugi saw Anzu’s hand curl into a fist on the booth cushion. She was making the friendliest death-eyes at Jou he’d ever seen.

Atem, thankfully, didn’t notice the display. He was looking off to the side again, with a hand on the back of his neck. “I’m still working, but thank you.”

“Maybe if you’ve got some downtime, then.”

He nodded, stiff.

“It wouldn’t be a bother,” Yugi added, because he felt like that might be the _real_ issue. “We all like making new friends here.”

He relaxed a fraction. “Well, Tuesdays are hardly the busiest nights of the week. I’m sure I’ll find a dead spot soon enough.”

Yugi replied with a friendly smile and Atem walked away.

“I’m going to _kill_ you,” Anzu hissed over the rim of her glass.

Jou threw up his hands. “What makes you think I’ve got it out for you, huh? Maybe I _actually_ want to chill with the guy.”

“Guys—” Yugi interrupted, but was swiftly interrupted himself when Anzu smacked his chest.

“You too,” she said.

“What did _I_ do?”

“Encouraged him!”

“I didn’t encourage _anything_.”

She just scoffed, and sipped from her drink. Yugi and Jou shared matching stares of disbelief. Yugi lifted his own drink to his lips and hoped this was as crazy as the night would get.

True to his word, a dead spot came fairly fast, and Atem had soon dragged over a chair to sit at the empty end of the table with the rest of the group. The conversation had morphed from museum talk to what it was like being related to the Ishtar’s – “exhausting” was the consensus – to everyone’s favorite drinking games. Atem brought one up that no one had ever tried before, and now…

Now, Yugi was positive he was being messed with.

“So,” Atem said, finally stilling in his motion of the three cocktail shakers, “which one is it?”

He knew exactly which one was the shot of water. He’d been watching it carefully the whole time, and Atem had just slid it right back into the same place it started in. But that would be too easy, right? Maybe he’d lost track of it.

Yugi gestured at Jou and Honda, letting them take the first guess. And being the guinea pigs to his theory. _Sorry_, he thought, _I’m not risking the win_.

“I think it’s this one,” Honda declared, lifting the rightmost shaker and revealing the clear shot on the table.

“Damn, that was mine too,” Jou cursed.

“You know the rules,” Atem said.

Honda swiped the shot off the table, and Yugi watched very carefully. If Atem had done what Yugi _thought_ he’d done, that would be the vinegar.

The minute the liquid inside met the inside of Honda’s mouth, he convulsed in coughs and gags. “Not water,” he sputtered. “_Not _water.”

Jou demanded a clearer answer, and a single sniff had him gagging. Vinegar, then. Which meant Yugi was _right_.

Atem had a look on his face like he was trying not to laugh. “Alright, Jou, Yugi? Make your guess.”

“It’s the middle one,” Yugi said, confident and immediate.

“How can you be so sure?” Jou asked, incredulous.

“Because the vinegar was in the same place as when we started.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. It could just be a coincidence.”

“It _could_ be,” Yugi said, and locked eyes with the one running the game, the one who claimed last week to love _any_ kind of game, “but it isn’t.”

Atem propped up his chin with his hands on the back of the chair. Trying to look innocent, and failing. “What ever could you be accusing me of?”

_Nice try_, Yugi thought. “Either you put them all back to their original places, or you left the vinegar in the same spot to psyche me out.”

“You mean to psyche you _both_ out.”

He started at the reminder that Jou was still playing. Had he really gotten that deep in his own head? “Yeah,” he corrected. “Right, to psyche us out.”

“I don’t know, Yug’,” Jou said. “That seems a little farfetched.”

“Well, it’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

“If you’re _so_ confident that you’re right,” Atem offered, “I’ll drink the shot you don’t pick.”

Oh, _that_ was a challenge if ever he heard one.

Yugi squinted a little and folded his arms, trying to find a tell, the crack in his poker face. Atem copied his position – adding a confident smirk that begged to be slapped off. Figuratively, of course.

There’s no way a rational person would make a bet with this much confidence unless they knew they were going to win. It was as though Atem was _begging_ Yugi to change his mind, to back off and take the shot on the left instead. It was so _obvious_ – but it was obvious in the wrong way completely.

Yugi wasn’t stupid. He’d used this exact same strategy against many of his opponents in his competitive days, the Magical Hats magic card a favorite way to trip up an unprepared or overconfident duelist. And while he tried not to think about the times _specifically_ anymore, old habits die hard. Old strategies die harder.

If Atem was so confident about Yugi drinking the shot from the middle, there was absolutely no way he would drink the shot on the left. Because Atem wasn’t confident that he would _win_. He was confident that Yugi would _change his mind_. That he’d slip up, fall for this obvious display – he was _preening_ at the idea, even.

Atem was good. Yugi was better.

“Fine,” he said. He put his whiskey down and slapped his hand on the middle shaker. The _correct_ shaker. He didn’t break eye contact.

“Fine.” Atem put his own hand on the left one. “Is that your _final_ answer?”

To the fiery end, an air confidence. Someone less experienced might have fallen for that one, but Yugi was nothing if not experienced.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, lifting the shaker to reveal the shot, “it is.”

Atem lifted his shaker and took the mystery shot from under it. “Bottoms up.”

They clinked their glasses together and knocked them back. When water hit the back of Yugi’s throat, he almost choked on his pride. He _knew it_. He slapped down the tiny glass, ready to face the defeat of his opponent. Atem set his down at the same instant.

And wow.

Yugi’s friends made plenty of jokes at his expense when he was confident, often accusing him of getting off on winning. But never in all his life had Yugi ever seen someone who looked so thrilled to have _lost_ a game. It was kind of funny, actually.

It wasn’t possible for Atem to think he’d won. There was literally no way he had the upper hand here – his shot was vodka because Yugi’s was water. The end. So why in the world was he _smiling_?

“So?” Anzu asked. “Who won?”

Yugi casually tipped the glass in her direction, not looking over for the sake of his staring contest. She sniffed.

“It doesn’t smell like anyth— _Hey_—”

Atem finally backed down. “You, sir, just made me drink on the job.”

Yugi sat back and basked in the excited cheers of his friends, handing out high-fives and allowing himself to be shaken around by Jou and Honda a little bit.

“Good game,” Atem said to him, collecting up the empty glasses and shakers. Nobody else was paying attention, and maybe that’s the way he wanted it. Maybe he’d been smiling because he was having fun.

“Good game,” Yugi replied, and he meant it. For such a silly thing, it made him think harder than he thought he’d have to with a couple of drinks in him. He had fun too.

“Anybody need any refills?” Atem asked, focusing on _everyone_ this time. “Something different?”

Nobody needed anything, so he disappeared with the used “game pieces.” Yugi found himself involuntarily watching him as he did so, gears in his head turning like they hadn’t since he was in competitions. Atem whipped out a tactic that Yugi used in _high level_ duels like it was no more than a party trick. He did it for _fun._ And if this was the kind of thing he pulled out for fun, what was he like when he was seriously competing? How good was he when he was invested in a struggle? When he truly, fervently, _wanted to win_?

It was rare that Yugi wanted to pick someone apart like this anymore. Another old habit from his dueling years, when it was crucial to get inside an opponent’s head, think what they were thinking, and outsmart them at the same time. But this didn’t come from a place of pride or a need to be superior – he wanted to see what kinds of things Atem could come up with under pressure. Wanted to see how creative he could really get.

Now _that_ would be something to smile about.

“Okay. I’m doing this.”

Yugi flinched out of his totally-not-creepy observation of Atem’s strategies. Next to him, Anzu had her nose in her glass, taking a large quaff before setting it down confidently and scooting her way out of the booth. She skittered over to the bar, alcohol either not kicked in enough to give her the “liquid courage” effect or just plain not working. 

“You can do it!” Ryou whisper-yelled.

“She’s totally going to panic,” Jou muttered.

“How long do you think she’ll last?” Honda asked, dead set on the conversation Anzu had just engaged in.

“Thirty seconds.”

Yugi smacked them both. “Knock it off.”

They knocked it off, but notably didn’t take their eyes of the counter. Ryou was watching too, at least trying to be subtle. Yugi swirled his whiskey and sighed, electing to watch the goings-on as well. If you can’t beat them, join them.

They were a little far away, but Atem’s response of, “Yeah, why not?” reached the table loud and clear. Everyone exchanged excited glances and half-smiles.

“Really?” Anzu asked, straightening up at least a foot taller.

“Totally. You all seem like really cool people, and I know this might be awkward to say, but I think we could all be really great friends.”

Jou sucked in breath through his teeth. Yugi struggled not to plant his face on the table, instead sharing a pained look with Ryou. It was all too clear, then, that extensive strategies did not always translate to social graces.

And then Anzu said the magic words:

“Like a date.”

Yugi couldn’t see Anzu’s expression, but he hoped it was better than Atem’s right now. Because he was _panicking_. Eyes blown wider than any reasonable person’s should be able to grow, he opened his mouth to flounder.

Anzu’s next words were indecipherable to the table, speaking too fast to hear.

Jou shook his head sadly. “She’s rambling. Who let her have a vodka, again?”

Yugi couldn’t even scold him for his pessimism, watching the interaction with the same morbid fascination as he’d watch footage of a natural disaster. It was horrible from _anyone’s_ perspective – but he just couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Atem looked like he was about to start talking, a couple different times actually, but Anzu steamrolled over his unspoken words. If this went on any longer, Yugi was going to go up there and drag her back to the table if only to spare what was left of her dignity. Jou stuck his nose down his glass a took a long drink, eyes pinched shut like he was in pain.

At last, Atem screwed up his face, opened his mouth, and proclaimed to the room—

“I'm _really_ gay.”

Yugi cursed under his breath as a monstrous snort was accompanied by Jou doubling over in his seat with his drink flying out of his nose. He slapped a hand over his mouth, far too late, and it was impossible to tell if his eyes were tearing up with the effort of holding in his laughter or pushing alcohol and carbonation through his sinuses. 

Honda pushed away from the table and cried, “Ew, what the _hell_, Jou?”

“That,” Ryou declared, “is absolutely disgusting.”

Vaguely, Yugi could hear the conversation at the bar continuing – “I did _not_ mean to say that,” Atem said, and he could only think, _Yeah, I’ll bet_ – but it became background noise as he helped Ryou wipe off the evidence of Jou’s surprise attack. Most of it, anyway.

“That was _super_ uncalled for,” he said, crumpling up an _extremely_ used cocktail napkin.

“It’s not like I meant to,” Jou shot back as he wiped his face down, eyes still watering – this time definitely from the rum.

“Is there such a thing as competitive spit takes?” Honda teased, nudging the recovering friend at his side. “You’d make a killing.”

“Shut up before I shut you up.”

Ryou folded up the napkins he’d used, shoving them to the edge of the table. “Well, I’d say we all need something relaxing for a change.” He set down a brightly colored deck of tarot cards on the newly cleaned surface.

At that moment, Anzu marched back over to the table, with an air of relaxed confidence – maybe even relief. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Yugi said, before either Jou or Honda could open their mouths. “Ryou’s about to do some readings.”

She slid back into her seat and clapped her hands. “Oh, awesome!”

On cue, Jou called for Atem’s attention and Ryou started shuffling the cards. “Who wants to go first?” he asked.

Yugi raised his hand slightly. “I’ll go.”

The table fell into companionable silence, watching Ryou spread the cards out and assess them carefully. He pushed two cards, Strength and The Star, forward in front of Yugi, who moved his drink into his lap to avoid getting them wet. He’d been friends with Ryou long enough to _sort of_ understand what all the cards meant, but it was always fun to get readings.

Or, it was _usually_ fun.

He hardly recognized Atem’s return when he did finally sit back down, too engrossed in Ryou’s explanation. And feeling it sink into his bones a little deeper than it usually did.

He stared into his nearly finished whiskey. Strength and The Star. _You're going to need to face your fears to be truly free._

Yugi had normal fears. He was afraid of getting lost in the dark, afraid of bugs with too many legs, afraid of disappointing people, afraid of losing the ones he loved. Everyone has those kinds of fears. But none of them were holding him back. None of them were keeping him trapped, chained down, preventing him the freedom to make his own choices.

The one fear that fit that description was a new one, actually.

He’d never had a long-term relationship end as poorly as _that_ one. Even when things were on thin ice with Rebecca, they’d parted mostly-amicably. It was awkward for a time, but they settled for being distant acquaintances after a few months apart. He never felt insecure about it. Sometimes people just didn’t work out long-term. That was okay. He could accept that.

But things with Seto _had_ worked out. For twice as long as his time with Rebecca, they had _worked_, and worked well. It had all seemed _perfect_ until the very last few months. They had arguments, sure. They had qualities that irritated each other, even _infuriated_ each other. But he would have never guessed that… He would haven’t even _considered_…

He swallowed the rest of his drink. The burn down his throat wasn’t strong enough to distract him.

The worst part was, he didn’t even understand _why_. He hadn’t stuck around long enough to have the explosive arguments that movies and TV shows often put on display. He didn’t want to waste time with it, so he packed up what little they had shared between residences and made sure he was at work when Seto came to pick up his stuff. He was so _sure_ it was a waste of time to even entertain getting a reason, or see him at all.

But now that he was left without a reason, without even so much as an _I made a mistake _to go off of, he learned that trying to come up with his own reasons was much, _much_ worse. What was the motivation behind it? What did it _mean_? Was it stress coming to a breaking point? Was it an honest mistake made in the heat of the moment? Was it to prove a point? Was it a _test_?

Was it _Yugi’s_ fault?

He tried not to think that way. He tried _so hard_ not to think that way, but that single question ate away at him, and had been gnawing at the edges of his chest ever since he slammed that office door shut.

_Did I do something wrong?_

It was the wrong question to ask, but he couldn’t stop himself. If nothing else made sense, the process of elimination dictated that the last possible option was the correct one. But he’d gone over it dozens of times and he hadn’t _knowingly_ done anything to cause _this._

So, what? Had it just been a matter of time until Seto got bored of him? Was this even the first time he’d done it? Had every one of their arguments been soothed by someone else – and Yugi had just never caught him before? Had he _ever_ been good enough?

That was the fear he had. That was the one that tied him down, that he knew he’d have to push through to be “free,” as the tarot cards put it. It was why he hadn’t blocked Seto’s number yet. It was why he hesitated when he drove through the city, half of him itching to take the turn to KaibaCorp and the other half wanting to take the longest route to avoid it. If he held on… maybe he’d be good enough again.

Somewhere, he heard the table talking about things they thought were weird. He doubted it was appropriate to chime in with, “my ex-boyfriend’s behavior,” but within the confines of his own mind, he let himself mope.

And then Atem said, “Luck.”

Yugi looked up from his lap just in time to hear him add, “I don’t believe in luck.”

The table was staring, confused, clearly not understanding. Yugi was confused for a different reason – he’d never heard anyone else say that before. He compartmentalized his agonizing for the moment.

He watched the conversation quietly, not really wanting to do much talking anyway, listening as Atem tried to explain the difference between chance and luck. The metaphor of a dice game was met with blank stares.

“I don’t get it,” Jou admitted.

The resigned disappointment on Atem’s face was so familiar, that Yugi couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I do. Luck is subjective. It’s only good and bad because we say it is.”

“Exactly,” he continued, looking like he couldn’t quite believe the conversation was happening, “Chance definitely exists, but whether or not you come up on the side of the die you want has nothing to do with some good-or-bad force of nature. And the way you roll the die can increase or decrease the chance of it coming up on the number you want.”

Point for point, exactly right. “Chance has nothing to do with luck, but luck has everything to do with the way we look at chance.”

Atem gestured toward him with a smile so grateful that Yugi felt his own face lifting without his permission. “Perfect. You took the words out of my mouth.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then—

“That’s freaky,” Jou stated.

“It’s like they’re the same person,” Anzu agreed.

Jou snapped his fingers with a spark in his eye. “Hey, Yugi, is the chance thing how you were able to figure out that Atem put the shots back into the same places?”

“Nope,” Yugi said, shaking his head, “I didn’t use chance at all.”

“Then how’d you do it?”

“I just figured if _I’d_ been shuffling them around,” he said, not even trying to hide the kick he got out of the entire interaction, “putting them back in the same place would be the perfect way to throw off my players.”

Atem looked back at him the same way. “And I figured you would have never turned down the challenge I offered for the same reason.”

Yugi marked that down as another reason to pick his brain. “You’re right about that, _but—_” he held up a finger “—I didn’t fall for your trap.”

“I probably wouldn’t have either.”

He made another note to himself.

Jou threw his head back in frustration, pawing at his eyes and growling, “_Arrg_, they even play games the same way! This is the Twilight Zone!” Everyone laughed – either with him or at him, it was hard to say.

The night snowballed from there, as everyone came to the collective realization that it was close to two in the morning and most of them had morning obligations to keep. After insisting that Atem hand over his phone so they could all keep in touch, Jou began the circle that passed it around so everyone could punch in their numbers while the tabs were retrieved.

As Yugi passed the phone on to Anzu, the text he’d sent to himself vibrated in his pocket. He pulled out his phone to add the contact, but hovered over the keys when asked to add a name.

All of his friends had nicknames in phone – his _mom_ had a nickname – and despite only having met Atem, Yugi felt _odd_ about not having one for him. Brand new friends or not, he needed a nickname. It was a rule he had never broken before, and he wasn’t about to stop now. He backed out of the menu, electing to come up with something on the ride back home.

Atem came back with the stack of bills, and after making the table promise not to slander his name, he disappeared again with their empty glasses and the stack of plastic and paper. Yugi tapped the sides of his phone again, frowning at the nameless phone number sitting in his messages.

The group chat interrupted his brainstorming with a series of new messages. He swiped them open.

**Jou Bro has added Unknown Number to “giant h*cking nerd chat (plus anzu is here)”**

**Jou Bro 1:41am**

_there we go, welcome 2 the Squad_

**Dancing Queen 1:41am**

_Woohoo! Everyone’s together!_

**Muscle Car 1:41am**

_so atem how does it feel to be a part of the world nerdiest group chat?_

Yugi could have rolled his eyes. They were all in the same _room_.

**Yugi 1:42am**

_guys he’s working lol_

**Jou Bro 1:42am**

_o shit lol i forgot this was his job _

“Does anybody else have change?” Ryou asked, slipping a bill out of his wallet and tossing it onto the table. “I don’t think this is big enough for a _real_ tip by itself.”

Yugi dug out his wallet again. “Sure, I think I’ve got something.”

“Oh, me too,” Anzu added.

Jou waved one around. “Same here.”

Honda wordlessly added his own contribution to the growing pile, and soon there was enough for a “real” tip sitting at the center of the table. They all looked at each other, proud and satisfied with their combined efforts.

Atem returned with their cards, quickly pocketed, and receipts, which they signed. The final step before going home for the night.

As everyone filed out of their seats, thanking Atem for the invite and ensuring no one was driving who wasn’t supposed to. The last one to stand, Yugi swiped the collective tip from the table, folding the bills in his hand so none of them slipped out. He sidled up to Atem, still hanging near the table.

“We all pitched in for a tip,” he said, offering the money forward.

Atem took it with a curious look in his eye. “Thank you. But you _can_ just leave it on the table. I promise my eyesight isn't that bad.”

Yugi couldn’t help a smile. “Yeah, I bet, but I also wanted to thank you. Again.”

“For?”

“For turning another bad night around.”

He didn’t consciously mean to thank him for that, but it was true. Twice in the _same_ night – first at the museum, and just then, after the tarot reading. He didn’t even do it on purpose. But Yugi thought it worth a “thank you” all the same.

“Of course,” Atem replied, almost surprised. “Why wouldn't I help out?”

“It's not like you had a reason to care,” he said. “You said it yourself: you don't really know much about me.” _And I don’t know too much about you, but…_

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Probably the rest of the group telling him to hurry up.

“I don't have to know everything about you to care that you're uncomfortable,” Atem countered. “Besides, we're identical in every way. I'm obviously going to help out my other self.”

Yugi laughed, mostly out of surprise. “Other self, huh? I like that.”

Atem laughed at his own joke. “Other self, partner in crime, whichever.”

Outside, the honk of Jou’s awful truck told Yugi his friends weren’t going to wait around any longer. Ryou was waving out of the driver’s seat window.

“There’s my ride,” he said.

Atem was already behind the counter again. “Have a good night.”

Yugi waved as he opened the door. “See you later!”

He pulled out his phone and opened the four new messages from the group chat, and saw his name spelled out one letter at a time. He opened the door to the truck with one hand, and sent back a dry reply with the other.

“What took you so long?” Anzu asked, as Yugi squeezed into the seat next to her. The truck shuddered to life as Ryou pushed the gas.

“I was saying thanks,” Yugi said.

“We all said thanks already,” Jou pointed out.

“Well I said thanks _again_.”

The ride home was quiet after that, the alcohol in their systems and the late hour leaving little room for coherent thought or conversation. Yugi spent the rest of the ride staring at his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard to try and give Atem’s contact a nickname again.

Maybe something about the bar itself – something Egypt-related. Something _pharaoh_ related, even? He mulled over the idea of using _Pharaoh Atem_ for about fifteen seconds before discarding it. Too obvious. It would be like referring to himself as “Purple Eyes Guy.”

Yugi was scraping the bottom of the shallow pool of things he knew about Atem when he remembered a flippant comment made not even an hour previously.

_Other self_.

That’s what Atem had called him. The memory stuck, kicking around in his brain no matter how many times he tried to dismiss it.

He liked it. But it was a little presumptuous, right? Atem had meant it as a joke, not a serious title. They were obviously different people, not a persona of each other, or some kind of alter-ego.

But they were so similar it was uncanny. Jou had said it himself – the Twilight Zone probably had episodes not dissimilar from this. Besides, _all_ of his nicknames were jokes. This would fit in perfectly. Right?

He gave in and typed _Other Self_. Then frowned, and erased the second half. Too formal. He typed _Other Me_ instead.

Yugi smiled down at the name, but faltered a little when he thought about what those words actually _meant_. He saved the contact anyway. It’d be a placeholder, at least until he found something else that was nickname worthy.

He turned his phone off and rested his head against the window, staring into the lights of Domino as Ryou took them down the highway. In the dark, they looked like stars. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next two chapters are going to finally contain what I promised this fic would have in it (stuff you guys haven’t already seen)


	4. We Can Share the Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY DON’T WORRY I’M ALIVE!!! I got a full-time job and it’s been eating away at my life (gotta “”””love”””” capitalism), but I WILL NOT ABANDON THIS FIC OR ANY OF MY OTHERS!! PINKY PROMISE, u just gotta be patient with me~
> 
> additionally: I am absolutely blown away by the positive feedback both this fic and Cut Off continue to get, I love you all and I hope u find $20 on the ground today <3
> 
> without further ado: if you were wondering if yugi was any less of an idiot in this story, the answer is no

Anzu was the busiest out of the group, no question. Especially when it got closer and closer to the holiday season and rehearsals took up most – if not all – of her time, it was rare she was ever seen outside the dance studio for weeks, going in at eight in the morning and not leaving until midnight. Her normal schedule was still jam packed, teaching four back-to-back classes on a _good_ day, and even Saturdays didn’t give her much space to breathe. Regardless, there were times she could find a little wiggle room in her schedule, or find a substitute when she desperately needed a break.

It was because of all this that Yugi jumped at the chance to meet for coffee on a Monday morning she had free, all while giving himself enough time to get to his _own_ job.

“Cancelled, huh?” he said, folding his menu away on the wire table. The fall weather made sitting on the outside of the street cafés reasonable for once.

“It’s for a good cause,” Anzu assured, glancing up from the list of a million different espresso drinks. “We have a guest choreographer this week.”

“That sounds fun.”

“It’s fun if you like doing pointe work at nine in the morning.”

Yugi had only the vaguest notion of what that meant. “I’m guessing you don’t?”

She laughed wryly. “Not at all. And neither will any of my girls, but they signed up for it.”

Their waitress came by to take their orders and collect their menus, disappearing again with a smile. Anzu folded her arms on the table.

“What have you been up to lately?” she asked. “I saw you and Jou went to the bar on Thursday.”

That’s how the Pharaoh’s Throne was known among them all now – “the bar.” Even though the three-week mark was only just approaching since the museum event, it had quickly become the first choice for a place to go drinking. Atem was always happy to see them there, and always made time to chat in person – even when they showed up on busy Friday and Saturday nights. Even when no one from the group _had_ showed up, Atem used his down time to keep the group chat updated about his weirdest customers and the count of how many people had fallen asleep at his tables.

“Sure did,” he said. “And we saw Ryota while we were there, too.”

Anzu’s face brightened in a surprised smile. “No way!”

“I know! Apparently, he works there.”

“I’ll have to go down and see him sometime. How’s he doing?”

“Same as ever.” He shook his head and laughed as he recalled their conversation that night. “The first thing he said after ‘hello’ was ‘do you still play Duel Monsters?’”

Anzu laughed along with him. “I’m sure he jumped at the chance to duel you again.”

“Actually, he didn’t even ask.”

Her eyes were in her hairline before he even finished the sentence. “You’re kidding.”

Yugi waggled his hand side to side as he clarified, “He mentioned _dueling_, he just didn’t mention dueling_ me_.”

“Are you _sure_ that was Ryota? The guy who almost speared you with a harpoon so you would stay and duel him?”

Yugi drew an “x” over his heart. “I promise!”

Anzu put her chin in her hand, intrigued and little skeptical. “Then what did he _actually_ talk about?”

“Duel Monsters, obviously, but he was _really_ adamant that I have a duel with Atem at some point.”

She picked up her head in surprise. “He plays?”

“Apparently? Well, he _used_ to play, but Ryota insists he’s still good.”

“Why was he so invested in getting you two to duke it out?”

Yugi shrugged. “To see which one of us is the better duelist, probably.”

Anzu put her head back down with a confused smile. “That should be a no-brainer, though, right?”

He shrugged again. His professional career was far behind him, but he wasn’t _completely_ rusty. He’d struggled to find serious competition outside of an _actual_ competition – not that it mattered when he was just playing for fun.

“If Ryota was telling the truth,” he said, “Atem wiped him out round after round even though he hadn’t played in years. No professional experience, either.”

Anzu waved her free hand dismissively. “You know how Ryota is – he embellishes his stories like he gets paid for it.”

Yugi still wasn’t sure if he believed his old competitor’s story, either, but there was a part of him that was reluctant to dismiss it out of hand. Even two weeks out from the night after the museum, there was a not-insignificant part of him that liked repeating his showdown with Atem over the shot glasses whenever his mind wandered. The eagerness at offering a challenge, the minute details of the challenge itself, a boisterous confidence that contrasted sharply with the rest of Atem’s personality – any nerves or awkwardness had simply evaporated. From the minute the game had started, in fact, he became a different person entirely.

It was hard for Yugi to _stop_ thinking about it, to be perfectly honest. He still wanted to pick Atem’s brain to find that competitive spark. He _thought_ he’d be able to pull it back out again and Thursday, but…

A pair of impatient fingers snapped in his face. “Hey,” Anzu said. “Earth to Yugi.”

He startled into attentiveness. “Sorry, what? I spaced out.”

She rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair. “I asked you if you were going to do it.”

“Duel Atem? Yeah, I convinced him to play me tomorrow.”

“’Convinced him’?”

“He didn’t want to at first, but I talked him into it.” _Sort of_, he added to himself.

Anzu narrowed her eyes. “That’s a little pushy, don’t you think?”

Yugi threw out his hands in front of him. “No, it wasn’t like that—”

The frantic excuse was interrupted by their server bringing their orders to the table, and he took the precious few moments of arranging plates of breakfast pastries and mugs of steaming coffee to come up with a way to explain himself. Because he didn’t have _anything_.

He was half tempted to change the subject to avoid it, but Anzu’s polite smile melted into a stern line when the waitress disappeared. _Damn_.

“It wasn’t like that,” he repeated. “He just didn’t think he was good enough to beat me, so I made a bet and he said yes. That’s _all_.”

“He agreed because you made a bet?”

“It wasn’t _just_ the bet.” He paused to take a sip from his mug. “We were bantering a little back and forth, and I think that’s what won him over.”

Her steely look relaxed. “Bantering.”

“Yeah, just a little friendly ribbing, you know?” He smiled a little, mostly to himself. “I think I might have gone a little overboard, at one point he practically turned into a deer in headlights.”

She raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react. “I’m surprised you wanted to duel him badly enough to make a bet at all.”

Yugi was shot back to Thursday night, and to the question that almost had him running for cover: _Why do you want to play me so badly?_

There was no way he would have ever told Atem, _Because I want to see how your brain works_, when they’d only known each other for less than a month. Actually, he might _never_ tell him that. The excuse he did make seemed to work well enough, so he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to make a habit of it.

But he didn’t count on Anzu.

“I’m curious,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. “I want to see if he’s as good as Ryota says he is.”

Thankfully, that seemed to satisfy. She sipped the foam off her latte with a smile. “What happens if he beats you?”

Yugi laughed, mostly out of surprise. He hadn’t even considered the idea. “I guess there’ll be a new King of Games in Domino.”

But that wasn’t going to happen. Yugi might want to see how Atem acted when he _wanted_ to win, not that he was actually going to _let _him win.

Yugi took his lunch late that day. Isis’ presentation hadn’t only brought fans of the semi-related card game – other archeologists and experts on Ancient Egyptian art had been jumping on her discoveries left and right, offering theories, additional information, papers, just about anything they _could_ offer. Some bold researchers even dared to guess the name of the Nameless Pharaoh, with predictable – meaning “controversial” – results.

It was all very interesting, but sorting through _anything_ gets exhausting after four and half hours. And that four and half was looking closer to _five_ when Yugi finally obeyed the whims of his stomach and marked his place among the pages and pages of academic slog. Time to eat.

He stretched out on one of the benches in the front of the building, the convenience-store _bento_ that he’d bought after meeting with Anzu resting in his lap. She’d sent him off with a hug and a wave, and wished him luck for his duel tomorrow – _Like you need it!_ – and he’d let the whole business slip from his mind since then. But now that he finally had some time to himself…

He thought about building a new deck to prepare, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. His deck had hardly changed since his early retirement. It was important to him. The cards he played with were as important as the game itself, and there was no way he was trading them out for anything in the world. At the very least, he wasn’t trading out his favorites.

Not that re-building his deck would make much of a difference when he didn’t know Atem’s playing style. Better to stick with the classics when he didn’t know what to expect. And speaking of expecting, Yugi had been working for the Ishtar siblings for too long not to have memorized most of their conversations – one of the most recurring themes being their absent-brained cousin.

He pulled out his phone.

**Yugi 1:33pm**

_don't forget to bring your deck tomorrow! _

It was an honest reminder, but Yugi was also hoping he could glean an insight to how Atem might be playing. The kinds of strategies he was likely to use, or at the very least, how much he knew about the game. According to Ryota the answer was “a lot,” but the sea-faring duelist did have a penchant for embellishing the facts. Quite a big one.

His phone buzzed a moment later, and he excitedly opened the new message.

**Other Me 1:33pm**

_get ready to face my kuriboh-based deck and cower _

Yugi smiled to himself. So, Atem knew enough about Duel Monsters to know that was a ridiculous thing to say. Although, it wasn’t completely impossible that he might actually have a kuriboh deck.

Nah. Probably not. He didn’t seem the type.

Yugi played along.

**Yugi 1:34pm**

_oh man i might have to adjust my strategies for that one _

**Yugi 1:34pm**

_kuriboh too strong _ _ᕙ_ _(_ _⇀_ _‸_ _↼_ _‶_ _)_ _ᕗ_

He hoped that if Atem _did_ have a kuriboh deck, that he’d see this for the good-intentioned joke that it was. The last thing he wanted was to make fun of someone’s strategy.

Yugi tapped his phone against the side of his leg, focusing on his food for a moment. Despite all the fun and games (literally), he really did want to be better friends with Atem. He was cool, and nice, and Yugi didn’t want anything awkward to come out of his entire friend group having known each other for _years_ before Atem showed up. Yugi was trying to speedrun their friendship, basically. He wasn’t quite sure how well that would work out, but it had gotten him this far.

He got another notification.

**Other Me 1:34pm**

_speaking of strategy, how the hell do you play this game again_

He relaxed. Crisis averted. Even though there really wasn’t one in the first place.

_I have got to stop thinking so much_, he lamented.

It didn’t look like Atem was willing to give up any of his strategies – smart move – so now Yugi decided he was just going to goof off.

**Yugi 1:37pm**

_easy! git gud _ _≖_ _‿_ _≖_

**Other Me 1:37pm**

_wow. you’re a life saver. i feel my skills increasing. _

**Yugi 1:37pm**

_i learned from the best, and i pass this knowledge to you. use it well, my student_

**Yugi 1:37pm**

_but seriously, just have fun! it’s just a game, y’know? _ _｡_ _◕_ _‿_ _◕_ _｡_

As much as he liked to win, Yugi had long since taught himself that winning wasn’t everything. It was the journey – the _game_ part of the game – not just the end result that mattered. Which was just as well, because he _loved_ the journey.

**Other Me ** **1:38pm**

_you say that, but forget the prize you offered to the winner:_

**Other Me ** **1:38pm**

_bragging rights_.

**Other Me ** **1:38pm**

_those are high stakes, yugi _

Yugi rolled his eyes, but he was holding back laughter. Of course, what competitive dullest worth their salt wouldn’t want the ever-sought-after prize of _bragging rights_. It was half the reason the title King of Games was invented. But he really didn’t care about winning.

Sort of.

**Yugi 1:39pm**

_maybe i was just trying to lull you into a false sense of security _

**Other Me ** **1:39pm**

_you’ll have to do a little better than that to trip me up, wise guy _

Was that a challenge? Didn’t matter. Yugi was up for it.

**Yugi 1:39pm**

_what, like on thursday night? that wasn’t hard at all_ (¬‿¬)

He congratulated himself for that one a little more than he needed to, considering that most of what happened on Thursday was a complete accident.

Okay, sure, he played up acting upset to draw Atem in, and from there he thought it would be smooth sailing. And it _was_, until he started playing on the defensive. The whole point was to get him excited about a challenge, and it had seemed to be doing the opposite. The bet had worked, which gave him leverage. Atem had been confident, but he hadn’t been _cocky_. He hadn’t looked like how he looked fighting over those shot glasses. That’s the person Yugi was trying to draw out.

He thought taking a challenging step forward would be something that would aid his mission, but uh. It didn’t. Instead, Atem looked like he was about to pass out or run away. It was… kind of weird?

Regardless, Yugi might have gotten what he wanted out of it anyway. A new text read:

**Other Me ** **1:40pm**

_…………you’re going down_

Yugi positively _beamed_ down at the message. This duel was going to be _amazing_.

**Yugi 1:40pm**

_pffft_

**Yugi 1:40pm**

_best of luck ;) _

His thumb had already pressed the send button before he could decide if the winky face was too much, but he shrugged off any anxiety that would normally come with it. _He_ was fired up, _Atem_ was fired up, and tomorrow was going to be _awesome_.

Yugi still didn’t intend to lose their duel, and he didn’t even know how good Atem was, but… maybe having a _second_ King of Games wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one this time! the next one im REALLY excited about :3c


	5. Just Can’t Wait to be King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY EVERYBODY, GUESS WHO'S BACK???
> 
> thank you all so much for being patient with me on this break - it took a little longer than i thought it would. in any case, i'm very excited to be working on this fic again, and i can't wait to show you what else it has in store!
> 
> for example, i’ve been waiting to write this chapter since i mentioned the disney marathon in cut off one (1) time. i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

“What do you _mean_ you haven’t seen _Inception_?” Yugi asked, flabbergasted.

Atem had to call from his kitchen, accompanied by the clatter of ice. “I just haven’t seen it. What’s the big deal?”

He’d turned the countertop into the mini-est bar imaginable for the long-anticipated Disney Marathon. The group had been planning it for ages, rearranging their schedules weeks in advance like they were attempting a heist instead of trying to get six adults in the same room for a few hours. They did, eventually, pull it off on one miraculous weekend that they could all clear their calendars for.

However, no amount of planning could have prepared Yugi for the ultimate sin: one of his friends not having seen _Inception_.

“’What’s the big deal?’” he repeated, shaking his head from where he sat cross-legged on the couch. “Unbelievable.”

“I’ve got half a mind to turn it on right now,” Jou agreed, lounging next to him.

“Hey! No!” Atem appeared in the living room in an instant, shaker still in hand. “We’re watching Disney tonight. We can watch _Inception_ another time.”

“You just want to watch _The Lion King_ for the seventieth time,” Yugi said.

“Seventy-_second_ time, actually.”

Yugi and Jou made matching sputtering noises.

“You’re not serious, right?” Jou asked, almost _afraid_ of the idea.

Atem held the shaker still in both hands, looking at them both with the utmost sincerity. “I am being one-hundred-percent, completely, _dis_honest with you.”

It took a second or two for the words to sink in, and by that time all three of them were already laughing.

“You’re an ass,” Yugi declared.

Atem flipped the shaker casually, making his way back to the kitchen. “Do you _want_ me to spit in your drink or something?”

“You’re an ass in the best _possible_ way.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Yugi smiled and shook his head, even though Atem couldn’t see him anymore. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jou pretending to gag behind his hands. Bad Sign Number One.

He ignored it, and asked, “What?”

“You two are gross,” Jou muttered, almost under his breath. Bad Sign Number Two.

“We were having a conversation.”

“A _gross_ conversation.”

“How was any of that gross?”

He only got the memo on Bad Sign Number Three, when Jou made dramatic puppy dog eyes and fluttered his eyelashes. Yugi shook his head, surprised and confused and not at all defensive.

“No,” he said, “that’s not—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before Jou could argue another point that was most certainly _wrong_, Atem came back with a bright orange cocktail and a glass of white wine.

“One sidecar for Jou,” he announced, handing it off, “and _this_ ungodly monster goes to Yugi, for some reason.”

Yugi took the white as it was handed to him, shielding it with his hand as if it could hear Atem’s comments. “The reason is because it’s _good_.”

Atem pulled a face. “I still can’t believe you brought a _box wine_ into _my_ good home—”

“I know you wouldn’t have it because you’re such a snob.”

“And proud of it!”

There was a rapid knock at the door, and Atem backed his way to answer it. “I’ll be enjoying a Cabernet. From a bottle. Like a _normal person_.”

“Whatever, snob.”

The moment Atem turned around, Jou shot Yugi a very pointed look. It involved the wiggling of eyebrows. Yugi ignored it by promptly sticking his nose down his glass. He had no idea what had gotten into Jou—he hadn’t even started drinking. He and Atem were just messing around, like two _regular_ friends.

Alright, so maybe they’d been hanging out a lot more lately. That was just _their thing_. Tuesday nights, Yugi went to get his usual drink at the Pharaoh’s Throne and just have a good time with Atem. What was weird about that? _Nothing_.

He paced himself with the wine. He was his own designated driver tonight, so that meant _no_ getting sloshed. Even if he _really_ wanted to be.

A chorus of excited conversation broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see Atem’s open door revealing the rest of the group behind it—Ryou, Anzu, and Honda—already chatting and laughing.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Atem told them, ushering them toward the couch. “I’m taking orders, what are you having? Limited menu tonight, so I can check what I have.”

“You need any help?” Honda asked.

“I’m fine, I do this for a living.”

Anzu flopped down between Yugi and Jou, putting her arms around the both. “Come on,” she said to Atem, “take a load off!”

“I still have to get my _own_, anyway, and I’ve already got all my stuff out.”

“You just have to let him,” Yugi said, stage whispering into Anzu’s ear. “He risked his life to pour me this.” He held up the white wine.

She leaned forward and sniffed it. “Oh, you brought the—?”

“The _abomination _wine, yes,” Atem interrupted.

Yugi groaned. “Snob!”

“The word is _connoisseur_, thank you, and can I get anyone _else_ a decent drink?”

The newcomers made their requests, and Atem left the room with a smile and a pair of finger guns. Yugi grinned into his “terrible” wine and watched him go. As dumb and frustrating as the alcohol snob thing was—mostly because Yugi could never tell if Atem was joking—he couldn’t help but enjoy it, at least a little. It made for some pretty awful jokes, that he constantly found himself thinking about regardless of how funny they were.

Jou leaned out to catch his eye and waggle his eyebrows again. Yugi jerked his hand like he was about to throw his wine in retaliation. Not that he actually _would_. This was Atem’s house, and they hadn’t even started the first movie yet, so there was no way he was about to make a mess. But Jou was _really_ asking for it right now.

“Am I missing something?” Anzu asked, flicking her hands in their faces in an attempt to break it up.

“No,” said Yugi.

“_Yes_,” said Jou

“Can you just—”

“Hey, scoot,” Honda interrupted, approaching the couch with purpose.

Yugi hopped all the way to the end, making room for Honda, and, most importantly, getting _away_ from Jou. Anzu came with him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he promised. “Jou’s being an idiot again.”

A protest two seats down said, “Hey!”

Thankfully, it ended the topic. The topic that didn’t exist because Jou was making it all up, and there wasn’t _anything_ like that going on.

Yugi took a swig from his glass.

Atem came back with the ordered drinks soon enough, passing them down the gathering on the couch, five out of the six of them squeezed in next to each other. And it left him without a space to sit, awkwardly holding a glass of red wine in the middle of the room.

“Here, I’ll stand,” Ryou offered, already halfway out of his seat at the other end of the couch.

“No, sit down,” Atem insisted, shoving him lightly. “I’ll get another chair, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t break up the vibe!” Jou protested.

“The ‘vibe’?”

“Yeah, of all six of us chilling. Just sit on the floor or something.”

“I’m not going to sit on the _floor_.”

Jou reached behind his back, and produced a very squashed throw pillow. He tossed it toward Yugi’s end of the couch, where it landed perfectly under him. “Pillow for one, my man.”

Atem stared at it. “It’s—It’s fine, really, I can just get a ch—”

“On the floor! On the floor!” Jou gestured at the rest of the couch with his hands as he chanted. “On the floor! On the floor!”

It wasn’t long before everyone was chanting along with him—_On the floor! On the floor!_—even Yugi, though he suspected Jou had ulterior motives for insisting on this. Which was too bad, because literally nothing was going on, and he was just going to prove himself wrong.

Finally, Atem threw his free hand in the air. “Alright! Alright, I’m sitting on the floor.”

A chorus of cheers went up around the couch. Jou put his drink down and clapped.

“You people are the weirdest,” Atem muttered, plopping down on the offered pillow. He didn’t completely relax into the spot, choosing to sit ramrod straight.

“He takes his vibe very seriously,” Anzu said.

“Because vibes are _serious_ business,” Jou added. “And you _all_ agreed with me.”

“Your energy is infectious,” Yugi said.

“And now we’re _all_ together.” Jou leaned around the two people separating them, and gave Yugi an exaggerated thumbs-up. Yugi rolled his eyes.

“I’ll try not to kick you,” he told Atem, leaning down to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“I’ll try not to get kicked,” he replied. He took a long draught of his wine.

“First movie!” Honda cheered. “Let’s do it!”

Atem groped for the remote on the coffee table and powered the TV on. “Did we actually decide which one we wanted to watch first?”

“I thought we were going in order of release,” Ryou said.

“_No_, that’s so _boring_,” Jou complained.

“Let’s just start with the classics,” Anzu offered.

Yugi put his head in his hand. “Can’t we just _pick one_?”

“I’m just going to play the first one that pops up when I search _Disney_,” Atem announced, already scrolling through menus.

“It better not be _The Lion King_.”

“If it is,” Jou added, “we _are_ making you sing every song.”

Atem snorted. “I’m not going to be singing anything tonight. Or ever, for that matter.”

“It’ll be more fun if you sing along,” Anzu said.

“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of fun _without_ embarrassing myself, thanks.”

Yugi put one of his legs down on the floor, threatening, “I’ll kick you.”

“No, you won’t.”

Of course, he wouldn’t. But it was very rude of Atem to call his bluff out in the open like that.

The first movie that appeared turned out to be _Cinderella_, and no one had any opinions one way or the other. Atem hit the play button, and everyone settled in to begin the night of animated classics.

Yugi’s leg twitched involuntarily as something brushed against it. He looked down, and saw Atem warily leaning back against the couch, and slightly away from the leg in question.

“Sorry,” Yugi said, trying to lift it in such a way that he wouldn’t kick Atem in the face. “I’ll move if—”

“No, it’s okay,” he blurted, putting out a hand to stop him. Almost touching, but not quite. “I didn’t want to bother _you_.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

They were promptly hushed, as the bright blue of the Disney logo faded out, and the real movie faded up. Yugi politely folded his mouth shut. Atem took another big gulp from his glass.

“And they’re _fighting_,” Atem slurred, sitting with his back to the TV as _The Lion King_ played out behind him. He made lazy swipes in the air, trying not to spill his overfilled wine glass. “They’re fighting and just tearing the _shit_ out of—oh, ‘Go for the _jugular_—' that’s Timon, he’s jumping around.” He mirrored the pose of the prairie dog on screen, down to the facial expression. “’See, I told ya he’d come in handy.’”

The room _howled_, gasping and leaning on each other for support. Yugi doubled over and wheezed, all he could manage, as the rest of the air in his lungs had left him long ago. He was just glad he’d put his wine down when this whole thing started, or he definitely would have spilled it.

No one had been able to stop laughing for nearly a half hour, when Atem drunkenly boasted that he could recite the entire movie by heart. It only took one slurred _Prove it!_ for him to spin himself around and start calling it out frame-by-frame, line-for-line, even with three and half glasses of wine for a brain. He’d sung every song, too, with a little help from those who could stop laughing long enough to join him.

“They roll, one, _two_, and she’s _got _him! She’s like—” Atem bared his teeth and spread his free hand like claws. “And Simba’s like—” he flipped to a scared and surprised expression, mouth hanging open in shock. “He looks for a second… ‘_Nala_?’”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ _die_,” Honda gasped, wiping his eyes.

Atem broke character to point sternly at him. “No dying, no one’s allowed to die right now. Ah, I lost my place where—” he closed his eyes and listened, mumbling under his breath.

It gave Yugi just enough down time to grab his wine glass from the crowded table of empty glasses and stand up, wobbling around the couch. He fought down another wave of breathless laughter on his way to the kitchen, as Atem found his place and started reciting the movie again.

Yugi considered what was left of his wine and drained it. Once in the kitchen, he swapped the empty glass for a tall plastic cup, sitting by his container of boxed wine. He almost sighed when he brought it to the sink, and filled it up with another round of plain water.

Regardless of how wild the night got, he was determined to not get completely trashed. Alternating between wine and water helped him keep most of his head—after a few hours, all he had was a decent buzz. Everyone _else_ was pretty gone, but they all promised they had plans to get rides or otherwise _not_ be driving themselves home. In theory, Yugi _could_ just ride with one of _them…_

He broke off the thought and the stream of water, lifting the cup to his lips. _No_, it was better to get home on his own, and be able to remember where he was going. He drove here, after all. And he was the only one who could keep everyone else from drinking themselves to death. Now he finally knew what it was like to be Ryou.

Yugi stayed in the kitchen a little longer, leaning back against the counter and enjoying the semi-quiet. Muffled laughing and Atem’s rambling filtering through to his ears, and he gave it a tired smile. As much as he loved hanging out with his friends, sometimes he needed a breather.

His breather consisted of letting his eyes wander around the kitchen, from the tile floor to the high cabinets. It was a nice place, even if it looked barely lived in. But, as Yugi had learned, when Atem wasn’t working, he was sleeping. He didn’t really have _time_ to make his place look lived-in.

That idea had never sat well with Yugi—of Atem working until he dropped, with nothing in between. Despite how often he said he loved his job, Yugi knew there _had_ to be a point where he got sick of it, right? Needed a break? Just went out with his friends, sometimes?

He _did_ go out with his friends, right?

Yugi tried to remember a time when he hadn’t seen Atem with their shared group of friends, the Ishtars, or at the Pharaoh’s Throne and came up empty. He hadn’t spoken of a boyfriend or a partner or anything similar. Presumably the rest of his family lived in Egypt. He had never introduced any of his other friends.

Did Atem… _have _other friends?

An aching hole opened up in Yugi’s chest. Is that why Atem was so nervous all the time? Is that why he was so jumpy when it came to physical affection—even something as simple as a hug goodbye, even though he said it was okay? Was he just not _used_ to any of this? Is that why Isis checked up on him so often, to make sure he was okay? Because he was alone, most of the time?

Had Atem seriously been _alone_, with nothing but his job and cousins for company, until Yugi had shown up with an entourage of friends?

Yugi couldn’t tell if it was alcohol or empathy, but he almost wanted to cry. This marathon they’d all so casually agreed to might be the first _real_ hang-out Atem had experienced in _years_. No wonder he was so excited about it.

An oddly familiar sight broke his lamenting in half. Yugi’s wandering eyes had settled on a cute wine-bottle-shaped magnet pinning a square piece of paper to the fridge. A piece of paper with the words _To: Atem_ written on in it a familiar handwriting. He got closer, and realized it was _his_ handwriting.

This… this was his letter.

_He kept it_? Yugi thought, dazed.

Atem _more_ than kept it—he had it stuck to the fridge right in the center, where it couldn’t possibly be missed. The crease looked worn, like it had been opened and resealed dozens of times. Yugi was afraid to pluck it off, in case it dissolved in his fingers.

Now he _definitely_ wanted to cry.

He spun around and marched for the couch again. If his dumb letter had meant so much to Atem that he’d keep it pinned on the fridge _months_ after the fact, Yugi was positive that this friendship wasn’t just a regular one. It was _special_ to him. It was important to him from the beginning, and he didn’t want to mess it up.

That meant Yugi was going to be the best damn friend he could possibly be.

Things had only marginally calmed down. Jou had joined Atem at the front of the room by the TV, doing the drunkest rendition of _Can You Feel The Love Tonight _Yugi had ever seen. Atem sang into his wine glass like a microphone, and Jou flung his arms in every direction. The remaining three of the couch’s occupants sat with their arms around each other, swaying back and forth to the music. Anzu had her phone out, waving her flashlight in the air like she was at a concert.

“_Something-something-look too faaaaar_,” Jou belted, with remarkable confidence.

“_Stealing through_,” Atem sang, confidence a bit more deserved, “_the night’s uncertainties_!”

The singers faced each other and belted in unison: _“Love is where they are!”_

Yugi flopped back into his space on the couch again, putting his water down on the table, nudging over the collection of empty glasses to make room. Not a moment later, he was dragged roughly to the side and half blinded by Anzu’s phone as she tugged him in with everybody else. He batted the phone out of his face, but stretched his arm around his friends’ shoulders, joining the gentle sway.

Atem stepped forward, exaggeratedly sad to match Timon’s voice behind him. “_And if he falls in love tonight / It can be assumed.”_

“_Blah blah days_,” Jou mumbled, staggering forward, “_with us are hist’ry_.”

“_In short, our pal is_—”

They both took deep breaths, and wailed the last note:

“_Dooooomed_!”

They held it way longer than the movie did, and only realized they should have stopped singing half a scene ago when Atem turned around to check. When they finally fell silent, the couch burst into raucous applause. Anzu dropped her phone on the floor to clap. Honda sniffed and wiped away his tears.

“Good job,” Yugi said, scooting over as Jou wobbled toward the couch again.

“’S nothin’,” he said, “’s nothin’.” He sat in the offered space, sinking deep into the cushions.

Atem flopped down in his spot against the TV, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “There’s no more songs.”

“No more songs?” Ryou repeated, half curled up on the couch. He looked like he was about to fall asleep.

“No more sounds. Songs. No more songs. There’s still sounds.” Atem pressed a finger to the TV screen, as if he could literally point out the sound from the movie.

Yugi did a quick run-through of what he could remember of _The Lion King’s_ songs—and that _was_ the last one with any lyrics. “We had fun while it lasted.”

“It’s not _over_ yet.” Atem sat up indignantly. “I’m going to do the rest of it.”

Anzu swiped her phone off the floor and waved him on. “Go, go, do more.”

“Okay. Okay, okay.”

Atem put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward seriously. He furrowed his brow and listened… then nodded.

“Okay. _First_.” He lifted his wine and tipped it back for a big gulp.

_Too_ big.

Atem kept lifting the glass—back, back, _back_—until he could only watch with drunken confusion as most of it missed his mouth and spilled out down his chin. And body. And just about _everywhere_ else. There were little gasps all around, and slurred _oh no_’s.

Yugi jumped to his feet. “Pause it, someone pause it.”

Anzu fumbled for the remote and paused it, but at the same time asked, “What for?”

He gestured down at Atem, staring dumbly down at his ruined clothes. “We’re going to take a little break and help Atem clean up.”

“What?” Atem protested, staggering to his feet—and revealing a dark red stain on the carpet. “Nah, ‘m _fine_.”

Yugi put a wary hand on his shoulder. “You’re a mess. Come on.”

He took the mostly empty wine glass out of his hand. Atem pouted as it left, but didn’t make a move to snatch it back. Yugi steered him away from the couch and out of the room. They weren’t moving very fast but Atem lurched the whole way, stumbling around as if his shoelaces were tied together.

“Get a new shirt,” Yugi told him, stopping at the door to his bedroom. “Do you want help, or can you do it yourself?”

Atem flicked his wrist. “Pffft. Yeah, I _got_ it.”

Yugi sincerely doubted that, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted anyone else to be much a help right now. _And_ there was still a mess to clean up. “Alright. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done.”

“You’re it.” He frowned at himself. “You _got_ it. That’s—That—I’ll do it.”

Yugi just shook his head. “Okay.”

Atem shuffled into his room and didn’t even bother closing the door before peeling his shirt off, dropping it on the floor carelessly. Yugi watched him for a moment, to make sure he didn’t forget what he was doing or need help. That’s why. That… that was all. He was being a good friend. Atem was his friend. His surprisingly well-defined friend.

Yugi turned around and stopped. He just stopped.

He forced a thought into his brain, raising the wine glass to remind himself: _Clean_. _Cleaning up wine_.

He went to the kitchen and didn’t think about anything else.

Placing the wine glass in the sink, Yugi grabbed a rag he hoped was for cleaning—it’s not as if Atem would be able to tell him right now—and ran it under the sink for a few seconds. It was only when he cut the water off that he noticed how strangely quiet it was. He made his way for the stain.

Back in the living room, the energy had melted out of his drunk friends. Jou mumbled about something, gesturing with his hands. Anzu had her head on his shoulder, scrolling through her phone and nodding occasionally. Ryou had fallen asleep, using the couch arm as a pillow, and Honda looked like he wasn’t too far behind, slumped back in the cushion and staring blankly ahead. None of them seemed to have noticed Yugi come in.

He knelt down at the dark stain on the carpet, blotting it with the wet cloth. He had no real idea how to _properly_ clean a wine stain, so hopefully this would be enough. His work turned the white cloth red, so it must have been doing _something_. When the stain was a faint smudge, he stood up to admire his handiwork. Not bad. Hopefully sober-Atem could get rid of it for good.

Yugi went back to the kitchen, and jumped a little when he saw Atem already there. He bent in half over the counter, his head in one arm with the other holding up a piece of paper. He was also wearing a new shirt. It was on backwards, but at least it was clean.

“Hey,” Yugi said, quiet. “How are you feeling?”

Atem rolled his head to one side to address Yugi. The drunkest smile split his face. “Good.”

Yugi couldn’t help but smile back. “Good.”

He put the used rag in the sink, next to the wine glass, and got a plastic cup down from one of the cabinets, one to match his own in the living room. He filled it with water from the sink. The whole time, Atem watched him work, still with that smile, still not even bothering to stand up straight.

“Here,” Yugi said, setting down the cup of water. “Drink that.”

Atem didn’t move. “Mhmm.”

He nudged the water a little closer. “Come on, drink it.”

Instead, Atem buried his head in his arm and giggled like a child.

“What?” Yugi asked, laughing despite himself. “What’s funny?”

He shook his head—well, he rolled his head around on his arm, and Yugi _guessed_ it was a shake—and made a humming sound. Yugi nudged the water again.

“It’s good for you,” he insisted.

“’M already good.”

“Please? For me?”

Yugi only half expected that to work, but it did. Atem pushed himself off the counter, and took the cup into his free hand, his other still clutching the paper. He looked down at it, obediently sipping the water.

“What’s that?” Yugi asked, pointing at the paper.

Atem smiled. “Letter.”

Letter? _His_ letter?

Yugi took a quick glance at the fridge, where he’d seen it earlier. It was gone. He glanced at the page and saw his own handwriting. But…

“’S hard to read now,” Atem mumbled.

“You’re holding it upside-down.” He carefully took the letter and flipped it around. Atem squinted at it.

“Oh! Now it’s good.”

Yugi looked at him, confused. “How were you reading it before I got in here?”

“Wasn’t. Just looking.”

“You were just… looking at it?”

“Yep.” Atem popped the _p_, and flicked a few drops of water into the air.

“Why would you open it if you weren’t going to read it?”

The dopey, drunk smile returned. “I dunno. I just like it.”

Well, Yugi couldn’t exactly fault him for that. “Thanks. I’m glad. I did write it _for you_ after all.”

Atem nodded and drank from his cup again. His eyes never left the page.

Yugi peeked around the counter into the living room. The group hadn’t moved from their spots, and neither had the movie—_The Lion King_ waited patiently right where they’d left it.

“Do you want to—?” he started to ask, but swallowed his own tongue when he heard a wet sniff. He snapped his head back around.

Atem had the back of his hand pressed to one of his eyes, his head bent low, and the cup of water sat on the counter behind him. He held the letter in his other, slightly trembling hand.

“What happened?” Yugi asked, wondering what could have _possibly_ gone wrong. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s matter,” Atem burbled, shaking his head.

Yugi stepped in front of him, slipping the letter out of his hand. As predicted, Atem looked up again, eyes wide and wet, and groped for it back. Yugi folded it along the worn crease, and set it on the counter.

“You’re crying,” he said, soft not accusatory.

“No, I’m not.” Undermining his point, Atem wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands.

Yugi showed Atem his own wet wrist. “Yes, you are. What happened? Can I help?”

He nodded. Then shook his head. Then looked at the floor.

So, they were going to play _this_ game.

“Did I do something?” Yugi asked.

“No. Yes.” Atem fumbled behind him for the letter, twirling it delicately between his fingers. “Are we friends?”

“Yes, of course we are.”

He scrunched halfway into a ball, with a poorly concealed sob. Yugi took a step back, fighting the urge to apologize—what did he _say?_

“I’m not good at friends,” Atem said, his voice squeaking with the effort of swallowing down sobs. “I’ve—I don’t think I had any really good friends when I moved here, and it’s sad. I got sad, but then I met you and _we’re_ friends, and now I have a lot of friends, and—” He sniffed and never continued.

Yugi’s urge to cry from earlier that night came back. He’d been right. He’d never wanted to be wrong so badly in his life, but here his confirmation was, right in front of him. Drunk, and crying.

And now Yugi was even more determined to be the best damn friend Atem had ever had.

“Yes,” he said, “we’re friends. All of us are friends, and you know what? That’s not going to change.”

Atem raised up and sniffed. “Okay.”

Yugi put his arms out. “Hug?”

He nodded and put the letter down. He shuffled in, picking up his arms and setting them gently on Yugi’s back. Yugi’s hug, on the other hand, was a bit tighter than the hugs he normally gave.

“We’re _always_ going to be friends,” he promised.

“Best friends?” Atem asked, muffled.

Yugi smiled and shook his head fondly. “Sure. Starting now, we’re best friends.”

The limp arms around him got a little tighter. He returned it with a squeeze.

“Did you want to go watch the rest of the movie?” he asked, returning to his original question.

Atem hummed noncommittally. “Far away.”

“It’s not that far.”

“Too long.”

Yugi laughed and pulled back. Atem didn’t move, no longer crying. He wasn’t looking Yugi in the face, smiling down at his chest instead. Yugi tried to release himself from the hug, but Atem didn’t budge. He laced his fingers together, keeping Yugi trapped in the loop of his arms.

“We can’t go _anywhere_,” Yugi pointed out, stretching his arms long, “if you don’t let me go.”

Atem grunted and pretended to strain against a powerful force. “Can’t,” he declared. “Stuck.”

“You’re not _stuck_.”

“Yep. Stuck forever.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Totally forever stuck. Can’t move.”

Yugi reached around for his back, and pried Atem’s fingers out of their lock. The arms dropped, and Yugi stepped back before he could get trapped again.

“Stuck forever, huh?” he teased.

Atem shrugged, smile glued to his face. “I got better.”

Yugi snorted. He went back to the counter and handed Atem his water cup again. “Come on, let’s finish the movie.”

“Okay.”

Yugi checked to make sure Atem followed him out as he left the room, and he did, thankfully. He trailed after Yugi like a baby duck, patiently letting himself be shown where to go. Yugi had to hand it to him—Atem was one of the most cooperative drunk people he’d ever met.

Swiping the remote off the table on the way, Yugi returned to his original spot. To his side, Jou and Anzu had fallen asleep on each other, and Honda looked like every dad that had ever fallen asleep on the couch. Yugi leaned forward and took his long-forgotten cup of water off the table.

“It’ll have to be pretty quiet,” he noted. “We don’t want to wake anyone up.”

Atem flopped onto the floor—not in front of the TV this time. He took up the spot he’d fought against earlier that night, crossing his legs on the pillow right underneath Yugi.

“That’s okay,” Atem said. “I don’t really want to talk a whole bunch now.”

Yugi turned down the volume preemptively and resumed _The Lion King_, right in the middle of cloud-Mufasa telling Simba he needs to go back to Pride Rock and be king again.

“I like this part,” Atem mumbled.

“Me too,” Yugi agreed. “It’s a really beautiful shot.”

“Reminds me of… me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Going home after a long time. Repson—Respon—_Responsibility_. Bad things happening.”

Yugi frowned. Atem didn’t talk about what happened to him before he moved to Japan, and Yugi had never pressed for exactly that reason. But if it reminded him of _Simba_ right now, it can’t have been _good_.

“It’s whatever,” Atem said, before Yugi could ask what he meant. “I like the whole movie, too.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

This wasn’t a good time to ask Atem about his past. Yugi wasn’t sure if there would _ever_ be a good time, and it might be a secret he was going to have to accept he’d never know. But he did _wonder_ about what happened. About what could have happened to make Atem relate to Simba, of all cartoon characters.

Yugi’s thoughts broke off when something tugged his leg. He looked down and… stopped, again.

The opposite of his sober self, Atem had one arm hooked around Yugi’s ankle, hanging onto it as if he’d been doing it the whole time. He tipped to one side and rested his head just below the knee. He sighed, happy.

The movie continued to play, but Yugi didn’t hear it. He stared at the screen, but didn’t see it. He lifted his cup to drink from, hiding his face among water and plastic.

He refused to acknowledge that he was blushing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> atem: *literally could not be sending more signals that read “I WANT TO DATE YOU” even when he’s drunk and has no idea what’s going on*  
yugi, in tears: oh my god… he cherishes our friendship so much….


	6. But You Do Have Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wouldn’t you know it, almost immediately after i posted the last chapter i caught the plague!! i think this fic is cursed because i created it so i could have an excuse to keep living in Cut Off for a little while—and the finger on the monkey’s paw curled that day…

It was _finally_ Tuesday.

Yugi had no idea why this week had seemed to drag on to eternity. It wasn’t particularly busy at the museum, he talked to his friends as much as always, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t go to the Pharaoh’s Throne whenever he wanted. But something about _Tuesday _made it more exciting. The satisfaction of having a routine he enjoyed, something to look forward to, week after week.

He really did look forward to it, and not just because he’d been thinking about it all week. He always looked forward to Tuesdays. But _especially_ this one, eagerly anticipating the rest of the evening as he made his way to his car, boots crunching the snow under his feet.

It was such a beautiful night, the earliest snowfall he can remember in years blanketing Domino in powdery white flakes. The city lights gleamed and glistened against the sheets of snow on the streets and sidewalks and balancing on the tops of streetlights. It was as if the world agreed with his good mood, electing to make the first freeze of the season as elegant as possible to match.

Yugi had a feeling tonight was going to be something special.

He got in the car, shucking off his coat and gloves and dropping them in the passenger’s seat. He took a moment to let the heater warm up, so he wouldn’t need to put his gloves _back_ on to drive. Slumping in his seat, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror. A stupid grin stretched across his face, the one he’d been fighting all day once he realized the date:

_Tuesday_.

Yugi palmed at his eyes as if he were tired, though he was anything but. He felt so _awake_, so _stupid_ with happiness, and couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. It was only Tuesday! He did this _every_ Tuesday. This was a perfectly ordinary Tuesday. There was nothing significant about today. He was getting his normal Tuesday drink with a friend, like always.

_Best friend_, he corrected, promptly rolling his eyes at the impulse. But he hadn’t been able to wipe the dumb smile away.

Sufficiently warm, Yugi backed out of the parking lot and went on his way. On his way to the Pharaoh’s Throne, because it was _Tuesday_ and—

_What is _wrong_ with me_? he thought, and for good measure eyed himself in the review mirror again. “What is your _deal_?”

His reflection didn’t answer, and neither did the voice in his head that kept insisting today was special. That today was wonderful. That the snowfall was the sign of something greater, something _magical_, and that magic was all for him. _Just wait_, it whispered. _You’ll see_.

Yugi wasn’t usually one to get caught up in superstitions, and this hardly counted as a superstition at all. It was a gut feeling with no proof. It had no basis in reality, and he couldn’t even figure out where it had come from in the first place.

But still. Watching the snow flutter down over the city streets brought something giddy out of him. As if he’d never seen snow before, part of Yugi wanted to pull over on the side of the road and dance in it. For no reason other than it was _there_, and he had a ridiculous amount of pent-up energy today.

_Man_, he realized, _I might not even _need_ a drink tonight._

That wasn’t going to stop him from _going_, of course. He was already on the way, and he wouldn’t miss a Tuesday without a _very_ good excuse. So far, it had never happened, on his end _or_ Atem’s. Yugi sat up a little straighter, strangely proud that neither of them had ever missed a Tuesday before.

Their weekly meetup had never been put in writing, nor had it ever been agreed upon out loud. It was just something they _did_, thanks to a few happy coincidences and a few weeks of Yugi showing up on Tuesday without even thinking about it. When he noticed the pattern, he decided to do it on purpose. Atem seemed happy enough with the arrangement, so he never stopped.

And he didn’t plan to. From now until the near future—and possibly even the _far_ future—Yugi fully intended to keep his Tuesday nights free of any other obligation. Tuesday nights were… different.

The thought comforted him all the way to the bar. When the light-up sign outside the Pharaoh’s Throne appeared down the street, snowfall flashing brilliantly against the neon, Yugi felt a little happy flip in his chest.

_Finally_, said that little voice, _it’s Tuesday_.

Upon parking, Yugi put his coat and gloves back on, cut the engine off, and got out so fast he almost forgot to lock the doors. He couldn’t help it—whatever was making him so excited about tonight wouldn’t let him sit still for any longer than he had to. He was probably going to be rocking back and forth on the bar stool all night. Atem would probably laugh at him.

But that was fine. Today was Tuesday. Everything was fine on Tuesdays.

With the entrance in sight, that stupid smile came back. He let it stay.

“Snow!” he cheered, shaking the snowflakes out of his hair as he pushed the doors open. “Can you believe it’s so early this...year?”

Yugi’s excitement trailed off as a very _un_familiar face greeted him at the bar. Instead of Atem, it was a random brunette standing behind the counter. The smile on his lips fell until he was staring in bewildered disappointment.

It _was_ Tuesday, right?

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” the new bartender answered, either not noticing or in spite of his confusion. “I’m surprised we got so much for the first snow of the season.”

Yugi forced a polite smile. “Me too.”

He quietly took his normal seat at the bar. The moment he peeled off his glove, his fingers flew up to his ring, massaging the bands anxiously. 

There was no way he had the wrong day, but hurriedly checked his phone to make sure. It was Tuesday. And it was nine. The normal day at the normal time. What gives?

Maybe Atem was running late. Yugi opened their last conversation and sent a new message. 

**Yugi 9:06pm**

_hey, i’m here!_

He put his phone face down on the counter, and tapped the plastic on his case anxiously. What was going on? 

“Can I get you anything?” the brunette asked, in the usual, impersonal way a bartender would ask. Yugi was almost startled by the lack of casual friendliness that he usually got. From Atem.

“Not right now, thank you,” he said.

They nodded and turned away. 

Before he lost his nerve, he spoke up again. “I don’t mean to be rude, but isn’t Atem supposed to be working tonight?”

The brunette shrugged. “He’s taking the night off. Not my business.” 

“Right, I understand. Thank you.”

“No problem. Let me know if I can get you anything.”

As soon as they turned around, Yugi had his nose back in his phone. No new message. He bit the inside of his cheek. He sent another text.

**Yugi 9:08pm**

_you didn’t tell me you weren’t going to be in tonight, is everything okay?_

This didn’t have to mean anything. But Atem didn’t miss work lightly—especially not on Tuesday. He _wouldn’t _miss a Tuesday if it wasn’t important. Or something happened to him. Yugi’s stomach churned.

What would’ve happened that Atem wouldn’t think to message that he couldn’t make it? A family emergency? Health? Was he sick, and just forgot to say anything? Yugi knew Isis and Marik liked to tease him about being forgetful—but he wasn’t _this_ forgetful, right? If something was going on, he would have at _least_ mentioned it in the group chat.

Come to think of it… Atem might as well have dropped off the face of the Earth. He hadn’t said anything, to _anyone_, since yesterday. He’d been pretty distant for a few _days_, actually.

Yugi nearly smashed his face against the bar, retribution for not asking if he was okay earlier than _right now_, but halted the impulse as his phone flashed with a text message, and two quick follow-ups. From Atem.

He swallowed and opened them.

**Other Me 9:11pm**

_sorry i meant to text you_

**Other Me 9:11pm**

_im not okay today_

**Other Me 9:12pm**

_you don’t have worry about it though, i’ll be fine _

Up-down-down. That’s the path Yugi’s heart took to his feet as his eyes scanned over the texts.

Not worrying about it wasn’t an option. Not for him. He couldn’t _possibly_ get a drink and go home knowing that Atem wasn’t okay. Not only “not okay,” but not okay enough to forget about Tuesday—something they _both_ looked forward to. Yugi knew that as much as he knew anything.

There was only one thing he _could_ do: be the best friend he promised he’d be.

**Yugi 9:13pm**

_would it be alright if i came over?_

He bit his lip, worrying if It might be too much, but it didn’t matter. He’d already sent it.

To be honest, he didn’t care all that much about looking pushy when he was trying to help someone who clearly needed it. If Atem gave him the green light, Yugi would be happy to help with whatever he needed. If Atem didn’t want him there, that was fine. At least he knew the offer was on the table, in case he changed his mind.

The response wasn’t a yes _or_ a no, incidentally.

**Other Me 9:14pm**

_came over?_

**Yugi 9:14pm**

_it’s okay if you don’t want me to_

**Yugi 9:14pm**

_i just figured you might want someone to help you out with stuff you can’t do today _

**Yugi 9:14pm**

_i still have your address from the disney marathon, so you don’t need to worry about that_

His heart squeezed at the memory of that night. Of Atem drunk and crying and talking about how he wasn’t any good at making or keeping friends. Was that was this was about? Was he feeling alone? Yugi knew first-hand how it felt to have friends but never truly accept that they were _yours_. If Atem’s brain was playing tricks on them, he’d try just about anything to prove those voices were wrong, but…

A new message flashed. He couldn’t open it fast enough.

**Other Me 9:15pm**

_im not exactly dressed for company?_

Yugi could have rolled his eyes, but he was too worried to be sarcastic. His fingers flew across the keyboard instead, desperate to at least _try_ to wring a real answer out of this conversation.

**Yugi 9:15pm**

_trust me, i’ve seen worse_

**Yugi 9:16pm**

_i don’t care how you look, i want to help_

**Yugi 9:16pm**

_if you don’t want me over, just say no _

**Yugi 9:16pm**

_but i’m only going to give you five minutes before i get in my car and start driving_

He put his phone down and plucked at the ring around his neck.

Yugi hated giving ultimatums, but had a feeling this is the only way he’d get an answer. Atem would try to find excuses to get him to back off, rescind the offer. It wouldn’t work, because Yugi would never refuse to help a friend, and getting a yes or no was crucial. Regardless, he couldn’t wait around all night. Atem needing help wasn’t something he was willing to wait around until the next morning for. So, five minutes.

He’d wait five minutes.

The seconds ticked by, agonizingly slow. Yugi picked at his nails and thumbed at his ring and bounced his leg up and down. The new bartender gave him an odd look, but he didn’t care.

_I can’t just sit here and panic the whole time_, he scolded himself. _What am I going to do if he says no_?

Well, go home. He didn’t really feel like getting a drink anymore. Besides, there was no point in sticking around without Atem—he didn’t come here for the whiskey by itself. He came for the company. For the silly games they played and conversations they had. For dumb jokes and laughing a bit too hard at them and not realizing what time it was…

He shook the thoughts out of his head. What about the other end? What if Atem let him come over? What was his game plan?

Go there, of course. See what needed doing and do it. Cleaning up, maybe, or even just hanging out so Atem could have another body in the house to keep him company. If this was a health issue—whether mental or physical—Yugi guessed Atem hadn’t been eating very well today, if not this whole week. He might not have the energy to make something, and Yugi was prepared to do that for him, too.

_But what would I cook_? he wondered. _Just take something out of the fridge?_

If he had to, yes, but that felt disingenuous, somehow. If he was going to help Atem, he wanted it to be meaningful. To _be_ that friend he swore to himself he’d be. He wanted to live up to that.

The warm memory of jasmine rice in the kitchen came back to him. Sitting at the table with a fresh bruise and a smile, as his mother sat across from him with their bowls in her hands. She _always_ looked exhausted, but she smiled back, warmer than the steaming bowls of rice in her hands.

In the present, Yugi’s phone buzzed. He swiped the message open.

**Other Me 9:18pm**

_drive safe_

Yugi put his gloves back on and marched out with a determined glint in his eye. He knew exactly where he had to be right now, and it’s wasn’t on a barstool.

The fresh winter cold burned sharp down his throat. The snow held only a fraction of its earlier charm, now that he knew what his _real_ task was tonight. All the way to his car, crunching powdery flakes under his boots, Yugi scoured his brain for the nearest place that would sell what he needed. He didn’t want to spend too much time looking for it, because this wasn’t really about the rice. Just like Tuesdays weren’t about whiskey, this wasn’t about what Yugi would be doing when he showed up. It was about showing up at all. It was about good conversation and better company.

This Tuesday _would_ be special, like that little voice promised. Yugi would make sure of it.

It took some driving around and two fruitless stops before he found a tiny corner store, a flicking neon sign inviting him in from the cold, and another smaller sign that advertised their selection of Thai food. Yugi breathed a sigh of relief—if _this_ place didn’t have jasmine rice, nowhere would.

He entered the nearly empty store with a nervous bounce in his step. He’d already spent almost ten minutes searching, even though he promised himself he didn’t want to take too long. He couldn’t help it. This was important to him. _Atem_ was important to him. He wanted to do this right.

Yugi paced up and down the short aisles, scanning over the shelves until he finally found it: a bag of jasmine rice labeled with a fancy red swirl, decorated with the flowers of its namesake. He sighed again, and smiled down at it, almost able to taste it from one look. Any worries or panic from the night’s events washed away—everything was going to be fine, now that he had this.

As an afterthought, he snatched a box of green tea on his way up to the counter. Tea helped most ailments, mental and physical, right? Worth a shot, considering he didn’t even know what Atem’s deal was. And just in case he didn’t like the rice.

Yugi bit his lip. What if he _didn’t_ like it? The gesture of showing up to make something would _probably_ fill in the gaps for that but…

“Good evening,” said the woman at the counter, smiling warmly. She was a little older, and the only one working in the shop—she probably owned the place.

“Hi,” Yugi replied, too lost in his own head to remember manners. He set the rice and tea down on the counter and fumbled for his wallet.

“That’s a sad look for such a beautiful night.”

He jerked his head up. “What? Oh, sorry. It’s nothing.” He waved his hand vaguely at the items as he handed over his card. “Someone… close to me is having a rough night, and this is a cure-all. Well, I _hope_ it’s a cure-all.” He gnawed on his lip again.

She swiped the card and tapped a few keys on the register. “Take an old woman’s advice: if she knows you care, you won’t need any fancy tricks or grand gestures to prove it to her.”

That was an oddly specific assumption. Yugi gave her a confused smile. “Him, actually.”

“Oh!” She handed back his card, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, my mistake, dear. Old habits, you understand.”

“Right. No worries.”

_What is she talking about_? Yugi wondered, nerves leaving in favor of confusion. _What did I say_?

The woman put the rice and tea in a grocery bag and handed it over the counter. “Have a lovely evening—both of you.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking it. “I’m hoping it will be.”

He left, still a little confused, but willing to let it die down into the back of his mind for the time being. He had more important things to worry about. A more important _person_ to worry about.

The corner store wasn’t too far from Atem’s place, but Yugi felt a sense of urgency to get there soon anyway. It had been nearly fifteen minutes already—he didn’t want Atem to give up on him. Or think something had happened to him on the drive over. Maybe he should have specified he wasn’t drinking. Maybe he could have said he was going to the store to pick something up. Would that have been weird? What if Atem thought he was putting groceries above his wellbeing? He could have specified what they were_ for_, of course, but what if—

Yugi rolled to a stop at a red light and took a deep, slow breath through his nose. He flexed his fingers, nearly cramping from how hard he’d been gripping the steering wheel. This was fine. Everything was going to be fine. It would be a one sentence explanation—Atem would understand. Plus, once Yugi started putting everything together, it would be obvious _why_ he bought these things.

The light turned green and he kept going, anxiety pooling like rain in his belly. Whatever happened tonight, whatever Atem thought of his late arrival, he hoped he could help. He _really_ wanted to help. Atem had already helped him so much, before they were even _friends_. And kept helping him, too. Every Tuesday, when he just needed a _break_.

Now, it was Yugi’s turn to help. 

That straightened him out—just in time, too, because he had nearly blown right past Atem’s apartment building. A quick correction, and a short jog from the snow-laden parking lot to the front doors, he walked with confidence up the short flight of stairs to the apartment itself. No matter what Atem needed help with, Yugi was going to do his best to aid him. It wasn’t even about paying back all the good times they shared together—though that was certainly part of it. Atem had _asked_ for his help, in a roundabout way. And Yugi was more than happy to give it.

He stepped up to the apartment door, and knocked.

Soft. Warm. Comfy.

It was morning, probably. Yugi’s neck felt weird. And his back, too. But he was covered in something fuzzy and soft and didn’t want to ruin that by opening his eyes to check what time it was, or why he was stiff in odd places. He did uncurl his legs from their bent-up position, stretching as far as his short stature would allow.

He touched something with the flat of his toes. It wasn’t solid enough to be a wall or the end of the bedframe. In fact, it was pliant when he pushed against it curiously, trying to figure out what it was. It shifted against him, whether to get away or move closer, he couldn’t tell.

Now far too awake to ignore it, Yugi reached his arms up and back—and surprised himself when he didn’t touch his headboard or a _wall_, his shoulder blades folding over whatever he’d been using as a pillow. He blinked his heavy eyes open and sat up.

Oh. Now he remembered.

Yugi curled his feet back from where they had poked Atem, knees tucked into his chest, head down on the opposite arm of the couch, still sleeping. Yugi winced at himself—he hadn’t meant to stay the night. Although, looking down at the plush red blanket that he didn’t remember falling asleep under, it must not have been a big deal for his host.

He scooted up against the arm of the couch, freeing his arms to hug his knees to his chest and put his head down on them. The blanket rubbed against his cheek, but he hardly noticed. Yugi stared blankly out into the living room, gray-morning light filtering in through a nearby window.

Finding out Atem’s parents had been killed after weeks of rioting wasn’t what he expected to help with when he came over. But it made sense, in hindsight. There had to be _some_ reason Atem never talked about his family outside of his cousins, or why he never talked about living in Egypt, or even _visiting_ Egypt. It could even have something to do with why he never had many friends, though Yugi wasn’t about to press _that_ question. Not after how he’d broken down at _mention_ of his parents, in an angry burst that almost broke Yugi’s heart.

The rest of it… Yugi didn’t even know what to _do_ with the rest of it. The circumstances surrounding Atem’s parents’ deaths weren’t _good_, by any stretch of the imagination. Yugi couldn’t even imagine having to deal with such an intense internal debate, for most of his _life_. How wrong Atem would have felt—likely _still_ felt—for loving people who did such horrible things.

Yugi’s hand was on his ring before he even noticed it move, picking at the braided bands. _I suppose_, he thought, with a wry smile to himself, _I’m not exactly one to talk_.

Coming clean _about_ smoking was almost harder than _getting_ clean. Everyone outside of his friend group always looked at him differently after they found out. Shocked faces were the usual reaction, and he couldn’t blame them. It was better than the alternative: wide, sad eyes, full of pity, telling him about how hard it must have been, as if he didn’t know. Worse was watching those sad eyes become worried every time there was a _single _cigarette in the same square mile, as if he’d pounce on it. It exhausted him—and made it harder to ignore old habits.

He made the mistake of spilling that bit of his past about half a dozen times before deciding he wouldn’t tell _anybody_ who didn’t already know. Not unless it was a vital piece of information. It’s not like it was any of their business to begin with.

But listening to Atem talk, as vulnerable as anyone he’d ever met, made Yugi feel safe to be vulnerable, too. A lot _more_ vulnerable that he expected to be, walking up with a bag of jasmine rice. And he talked about Seto again, willingly, for the first time in… a month? Two?

Yugi blinked in surprise. Had it seriously been that long already?

The sting from the beak-up poked his chest like a curious toddler with a new bruise. He smiled a little, when he realized he didn’t care all that much anymore. It still hurt—he wasn’t sure if it would _ever_ stop hurting—but it didn’t debilitate him. It didn’t send him careening over the cliff of _What did I do wrong_? this time. Yugi was hurting. But he preferred hurting over _suffering_.

His legs were getting stiff again. He broke free of the blanket cocoon and stood up with a wide yawn. He had to get out of here and feed Yami—but he wasn’t going to even _think_ about driving without at least a little caffeine in him. Atem had a coffee maker, right?

Yugi padded to the kitchen to search for one, rolling and rubbing his neck. Long gone were the days when he could sleep on a couch and not be horribly malformed the next morning. How his college-self did it, he’ll never understand.

It took a few sleepy blinks, but he eventually found it—a coffee maker, tucked into the corner with the grounds right next to it. As he dragged them out, he saw the previous night’s spoils, still strewn around. Gently used bag of jasmine rice and box of green tea, the rice maker still out, kettle still on the counter where Atem had set it down. Yugi couldn’t help but smile at it all. When the night had been light-hearted, it was wonderful. It still felt like Tuesday, just a different _kind_ of Tuesday.

He wondered if Atem would be game for Tuesdays like that. Not just meeting up at the Pharaoh’s Throne for Yugi to be served—although he had absolutely no complaints about them—but doing all sorts of things together. Skipping over the dramatic parts, last night they had dinner and _mostly_ watched _Inception_. Dinner and a movie, sort of. That could be fun to do again, in happier spirits.

Yugi glanced into the living room at the couch, where Atem slept, and decided to make coffee for _both_ of them. Sure, he had to get home pretty quick for Yami’s sake. But he could make another cup of coffee while he was at it.

The idea of a “Tuesday night remix” enchanted him the whole time, new ideas rushing through his mind as fast as he could come up with them. They _absolutely _had to have more regular game nights, and hopefully duel again soon. An arcade could be fun, too. Or dinner _out_, somewhere, instead of making each other cook all the time. And they could still go for drinks afterword, if they wanted. Yugi would want to, he knew. Nothing could beat the classics.

And again—that same ridiculous, _stupid_ smile from the previous night had taken over his face, and _why?_ At the idea of a hypothetical Tuesday night? Yugi scoffed at himself and decided to clean the kitchen while the coffee brewed. Not that it killed his smile at all, but it was something to do with all the energy he suddenly had.

Finding a place for the tea box to go was easy enough. He stacked it with the others Atem already had. He put the kettle on the stove, where he hoped was the correct place, and put the rice cooker near the sink to be washed. He debated washing it right there, but didn’t want to make too much noise, for Atem’s sake—he had a rough night.

The jasmine rice was last. Yugi bounced it in his hands, unsure what to do with it. Atem had seemed to like it last night, but he hadn’t eaten that _entire_ day. Yugi could have fed him a sea urchin, and he probably would have eaten it. Waking him up to ask if he wanted to keep it seemed unnecessary, so, what? Just leave him with this bag of rice he might not even want?

Yugi scrunched up his nose at it, and elected to set it on the counter, in an obvious spot. Atem could decide for himself what to do with it. Maybe he _had_ liked it genuinely, and would make it for himself.

_Passing our little tradition along_, Yugi thought, echoing his words from the previous night as he ran his fingers down the bag. It brought a subdued smile to his face.

He hoped it would make Atem feel better and not _worse_. After everything that happened last night, he wouldn’t blame Atem if he never wanted to touch the stuff again. But for his own selfish reasons, Yugi wanted him to like it. To eat it and feel better and think of the _happier_ parts of last night. Think of hanging out in the kitchen, eating it, watching a movie…

_Think of me_? he offered, as if Atem could hear him and answer.

And then froze.

Yugi spun his eyes _anywhere_ else, and settled for staring intently at the coffee maker. That—He couldn’t have—He didn’t seriously want Atem to think of him while eating this rice, right? I mean, it wouldn’t bother him, but _asking_ Atem to think about—? No. No, that would be weird. That _would_ be weird, right?

Okay, yes, thinking of people in a positive way wasn’t weird, of course. He thought about a lot of people positively. His family, his co-workers, his friends—_obviously_ his friends. Yugi loved his friends! He thought about his friends all the time. Just the other day, he was excited about going to the bar to see Atem!

Never mind the fact that he’d been… thinking about it all week. _Specifically_ thinking about Tuesday, how much he looked forward to Tuesdays, because—Oh, good the coffee maker!

Yugi make himself very busy. _Shockingly_ busy. It was the busiest coffee he’d ever poured, scouring the cabinets for the _exact_ mugs he wanted to use, and _scraping_ through his brain to remember if Atem had ever mentioned liking his coffee a certain way. In the end, and after _much_ internal debate, he decided to leave it black. He poured both of their mugs with precision, trying to get them as evenly matched as possible. He took an _agonizing_ time with this coffee.

He took an equally agonizing time to bring them out to the couch, where he set Atem’s down on the table in front of him. He didn’t flutter a single eyelash at the soft _thunk_ of the mug, out completely cold. Yugi breathed a sigh of relief, lifting his own coffee to his lips and sipping from it. Clearly the lack of caffeine was making him loopy. Yep.

Yugi meant to go back to the kitchen. He swore to himself he did. But his knees bent and his legs crossed and soon he was sitting on the floor, mug cradled in both hands as he stared into his lap.

He wasn’t going to think about anything, though. All he was going to think about was drinking this coffee and getting home to his cat. His wonderful cat, who had no ability to talk back to him in a way he could understand, and therefore could not protest to the _insane_ amount of rambling he knew he was going to do when he got home.

It was taking all he had not to laugh nervously like an idiot. Because _that_ feeling wasn’t… it _couldn’t_ be that. And even if it was, it’s not like he’d have any way to know if—

Atem shifted on the couch, his body realizing there was more space, even if his brain wasn’t awake. He slumped farther down, nuzzling into the arm of the couch, and stretched his bent legs out to fill up the empty cushions.

Yugi swallowed, hard. His head swam like he’d just done a line of shots without a chaser. Scratch that—like he’d downed an entire _bottle_ of hard liquor on an empty stomach. He was dizzy, a little flushed, would need help walking if he tried to stand up by himself, wanted to make a lot of very stupid, impulsive decisions. His head spun around and around and didn’t land on a single coherent thought, but despite it all, he knew one thing:

This was not good.

Realizing this, Yugi did what any good friend would do. He downed his coffee as fast as he could without scalding his throat beyond repair, calmly gathered his things, prepared himself for the cold weather, and left, closing the door as gently as possible behind him.

And like any _idiot_ would do, he got two steps down the hall, before he had to back up. He slid down against the door so he wouldn’t fall over in the middle of the walkway. He buried his face in his hands and tried not to make any audible signals of distress.

Because _this_?

Was _not_ good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YUGI. YOU WANT TO DATE THIS MAN SO BAD. JESUS CHRIST, YOU COMPLETE FUCKING MORON. YOU’RE SO GLAD WE ALREADY KNOW THE ENDING TO THIS BECAUSE D U D E


	7. Happy Old Fear!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all already know what time it is

It was Yugi’s first night back in town, and he was determined to make an entrance. Preferably _without_ stabbing himself in the eye fifty times first, but—

“Ow,” he cursed, blinking rapidly in an attempt to vacate the eyeliner from his sclera. He glared at the pencil in his hand. “Stop doing that.”

It stubbornly refused a response. Yugi rolled his eyes at it—and himself, for personifying inanimate objects again. It was the one nervous tic he knew he’d never grow out of, but he still embarrassed himself sometimes.

He shook out his arm and tried again, leaning as close to the mirror as the bathroom countertop allowed. He debated climbing on top to get even _closer_, but it wouldn’t be worth knocking everything on the floor to fit up there. With one eye already done, and this one_ almost_ perfect…

“_Ow_,” he cursed again, rolling his eye back to pick the makeup out from the corner. He frowned at the black chunk under his freshly polished fingernails and threw the eyeliner pencil down in disgust. Good enough.

Rinsing away the black smudges he’d earned on his fingers, Yugi gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror. Face done, hair done, outfit _mostly_ done. He felt like it needed something _else_ to tie it all together. The earrings were nice, and he was wearing his necklace as always, but it still didn’t feel like _enough_.

He dried off his hands and plucked absentmindedly at the sheer silver top. Was it a bad idea to wear this when it was still snowing out? Probably. But it was _New Year’s Eve_, and if _that_ wasn’t an excuse to wear it, he’d never find one. Besides, he didn’t plan on hanging around outside very long, and if his backread of the group chat had told him anything, the Pharaoh’s Throne would be _plenty_ warm from body heat alone.

Yugi suddenly found himself bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, a dreadfully familiar apprehension taking control of his body. That… sure was where he was going to be tonight. All night. With all his friends. Including one _particular_ friend, who would probably be too busy to talk much, but he’d still _be_ there, and—

He arrested the train of thought with a well-practiced roadblock before it could spiral into something worse. He shook out his hands, and reminded himself what he was doing. Outfit. Accessories. He made himself busy putting away the makeup.

Having the excuse to visit family for the holidays had been nothing less than a _godsend_. After helping Atem with his family breakdown, it was a wonder Yugi could even _show up_ the next Tuesday, fighting the urge to scream the entire time. The next couple weeks absent not only from his routine at the bar, but from the entire _city_ of Domino, gave him exactly the breathing room his brain needed to work itself out in a place he wouldn’t be tormented by reminders.

The conclusion he’d drawn in those two weeks away? He’s had it bad for Atem for so long he couldn’t even _remember_ how long, and was in _no way_ ready to come to terms with it yet.

Yugi leaned on the counter for support and sighed. He wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about it all night, was he? It was unlikely at best, what with Atem being _right there_ and everything.

_How plastered am I planning to get tonight?_ he thought. There were pros and cons, most of the pros being he’d stop thinking, and most of the cons _also_ being that he’d stop thinking.

He shut off the light and exited the bathroom, almost claustrophobic in such a small space with nothing but anxiety for company. On autopilot, his feet carried him to his room, suitcase open and half-unpacked on the floor, gathering cat hair as Yami lounged on the folded-up clothes like it was made for him.

“Please don’t sit on those, boy,” Yugi said, and crouched down to greet him.

Yami only swished his tail, making clear his intentions to sit on those clothes until he decided he was done sitting on them. Yugi debated picking him up and moving him whether he was done or not, but cat hair would stick to his shirt like nothing else. And he didn’t have the patience for a full-body lint roller pass right now.

“Can you help me figure out what I want to wear?” he asked, scratching Yami behind the ears. The cat flattened them to his head and bumped into the palm of Yugi’s hand, purring. Yugi smiled. “Yeah, I missed you too, buddy. I hope you were nice to Jou while I was gone.”

Yami shook his head vigorously, ears flapping and collar jangling merrily. He stretched his head up for more scratches.

Yugi provided them, continuing to his one-sided conversation. “No? You _weren’t_ nice?”

“_Mrrow_.”

“Who’s the evilest kitty in the whole world?”

Yami rolled onto his back, paws kicking the air. _I am!_ he seemed to say. _It’s me!_

“Who deceives others with his cuteness and strikes when they least expect?”

True to his legacy, the moment Yugi moved to scratch Yami’s belly, Yami trapped his hand between his front paws, claws unsheathed, and gave him several “playful” bites. Yugi winced, but didn’t try to pull away. It would only exacerbate the issue.

“Who’s gonna let me go now, huh?” Yugi said, half pleading. “Who’s_ not_ gonna bite off my hand for the new year, please?”

Yami relaxed his grip—presumably to get a better one—and Yugi snatched his hand back, shaking out the sting of teeth and claws. Yami mewled his protest, rolling onto his feet in an attempt to snatch him back, but flopped back down when Yugi stood up.

Yugi circled the room, looking for the missing piece his outfit needed. Something _comforting_, preferably, considering the anxiety triathlon that was scheduled to happen the moment he set foot in the bar. His hand went for his neck, but not to thumb his ring, this time. It groped for the empty space that was usually snug around his throat, that had hardly left him since high school but for a few special occasions.

His gaze swept down to his semi-unpacked suitcase… and his cat, still sitting on it. Yami blinked up at him.

“Alright,” Yugi huffed, flicking his wrists in a _shoo_ motion. “Move, please, I need something in here.”

Yami paid no mind to the order or the gesture. He rolled onto his back again.

Yugi tried shoving him gently, encouraging him to move. “Come on, there are plenty of other places you can sit.”

“_Mrrow_.”

Yugi tried a harder shove. Yami didn’t budge.

“Okay, you know what?”

Yugi shuffled around to the head of the suitcase and lifted it up. There was frantic scrabbling followed by a soft _thump_. Yami shot out of the room shortly thereafter, yowling his defiance.

“You asked for it!” Yugi called after him.

He put the suitcase down, half-heartedly swiping cat hair off the first layer of clothes before giving up and digging around to find what he was looking for. Buried under a stack of folded shirts, his fingers brushed worn leather.

Yugi pulled his collar out of the mess of his luggage, running his fingers across the well-used accessory. If he could only have one extra thing helping to keep his head up tonight—or the rest of his life—it was this. He clipped it around his neck, a smile already tugging the corners of his lips.

One last time, he ducked into the bathroom to appraise his outfit. He stood a little straighter with the collar on, held his head a little higher. It was like wearing distilled confidence.

He tugged on it a little. He’d never worn this thing in front of Atem—avoided it whenever possible, actually. After forgetting it on day one, he decided he was better off leaving in his car before he went inside every day following. The potential awkwardness that might ensure from Atem wondering _why_ Yugi would wear something… _like this_ convinced him to keep putting off the big reveal, and he was even _less_ sure how well it would go over now that he was significantly more invested in Atem’s opinion of him. It wasn’t a problem with strangers—he could handle random people giving him odd looks. But someone he cared about? Someone he may or may not have more-than-platonic feelings for?

Yugi tapped the countertop with his fingernails. He wasn’t going to be able to set foot in the door if he didn’t have this on. Wearing it was a must. Hopefully it would look like a particularly _wild_ start to the new year instead of... well, instead of what it _actually_ was.

_Aside_ from that. Yugi did another sweep of himself, in admiration this time. He’d put together a pretty damn good outfit. An outfit he would likely never wear again, so that meant he needed to shove it in as many people’s eyes as possible.

He fumbled around on the counter for where he’d dropped his phone, and snapped a quick picture of himself in the bathroom mirror, capturing as much of the outfit as he could fit in the frame. He posted it with a celebration of the new year and a champaign emoji for kicks. Smiling down at his handiwork, he almost put it away.

A silent notification appeared, the preview of a new text message dropping down from the top of the screen:

**New Message: DO NOT ANSWER**

_You’re late._

Yugi stared at it until it disappeared, clenching his jaw. He fought the urge to respond—it wouldn’t bring him anything but grief. _Just let it go_, he thought. He didn’t know if he was talking to himself or projecting it to Seto.

But as much as he wanted to be angry about it, Seto did have a point: if he didn’t get moving, he _was_ going to be late. Late for the _real_ event he was attending tonight.

Spinning on his heel, Yugi marched out of the bathroom. He gathered his belongings with one hand and texted Jou with the other.

**Yugi 9:46pm**

_how’s the pregame session coming?_

**Jou Bro 9:46pm**

_be even awesomer if u were here_

**Yugi 9:46pm**

_ugh i know!! i wish my train hadn’t gotten in so late (_ _๑_ _◕_ _︵_ _◕_ _๑_ _)_

**Jou Bro 9:47pm**

_hold up we r about to leave for the final new years destination _

**Yugi 9:47pm**

_sweet, so am i! i’ll see you all there_ _ヽ_ _(_ _･_ _∀_ _･_ _)_ _ﾉ_

As promised, Yugi stepped into his boots at the front door, car keys dangling from his fingers… but hesitated before opening the door. He ran down his checklist in his head, for the third time—_wallet, keys, phone, feed Yami, turn off the lights—_and came up with nothing left to delay the inevitable.

First night back in town. First night seeing his friends in two weeks. First night seeing _Atem_ in two weeks.

And the last Tuesday of the year.

Yugi took a heavy breath. “Okay.”

He stepped out the front door, skipped down the stairs, and out of the lobby doors into the glistening winter evening. It wasn’t until he was already driving that he realized he didn’t have a coat. He found it hard to care.

Was he nervous? Yes. Was he going to be trying to keep his cool all night? Absolutely. Was the alcohol going to make him do something stupid? Hopefully not, but it was possible. Arguably, he’d done something stupid already by remembering his collar instead of a jacket. But that was fine too.

He arrived at the Pharaoh’s Throne embarrassingly early—so early he didn’t even see the rest of the troupe. Not wanting to brave the cold just yet, and too nervous to even _consider_ going in by himself, Yugi slumped down in his seat to scroll through his phone until he saw everyone else arrive.

Another text to ignore appeared, his phone tallying up three of the things. He swiped it away.

A different notification in the list caught his eye. He swiped it open to find Isis, of all people, had left a comment on the picture he posted, telling him he looked great. He thanked her, but not before blinking a few times. He didn’t even know Isis had social media—much less followed him on it.

_Note to self_, he thought. _Be more careful about what you post from now on_.

The tell-tale shudder of Jou’s awful truck came around the corner. Yugi composed himself and hopped out of the car. The cold hit him like a slap in the face—and everywhere else for that matter—but he shivered his way over to the group, crunching snow under his boots.

“Happy New Year,” he said, as the group piled out and the doors slammed shut.

Immediately, Jou scooped him into a hug and lifted him nearly off the ground. “Happy New Year, buddy!”

“How was your trip?” Anzu asked, somewhere to the left.

“Good,” Yugi said, as well as he could while having his ribcage constricted. When Jou finally put him down he passed out hugs to everyone else—and soaked up as much of their warmth as he could.

“No jacket?” Anzu asked, as they made their way for the doors.

“I forgot,” Yugi admitted. “I was really excited to get here.”

Honda pointed through the windows. “You probably won’t need it.”

Even though it was dark outside and hardly lit inside, it was clear the bar was packed. Things and people shifted all around, flashing colored lights peeked around countless obstacles to meet their eyes through the glass. Yugi could barely hear music on the walk up to the entrance, but once Anzu pulled the doors open, the sound _blasted_ forth into the night.

It was, thankfully, _very_ warm inside the Pharaoh’s Throne, and the constant noise was likely half the reason. Talking, laughing, the clinks and thinks of glasses, and the unmistakable cacophony of bar karaoke attacked them on all sides.

“How are we going to find a place to sit?” Anzu asked, a little worried.

“Does anybody see Marik?” Ryou asked. “He said he’d grab a table if he got here first.”

“We can just ask—” Yugi started, but forgot the rest of the sentence when he looked toward the bar.

Atem was there. Obviously, he was there, where else would he be? He was waving, half-smiling. Yugi’s stomach flipped, and he didn’t even realize he was waving and smiling back until Atem put his hand down.

“Let’s just ask,” he repeated.

“And get _drinks_,” Jou added.

“And get drinks.”

Anzu started toward the bar. “Let’s go, then.”

Haltingly, Yugi followed. He couldn’t look straight ahead. He took another glance around the room, but didn’t process anything he saw. What was he going to _say_? Do? Just keep acting like there wasn’t something wrong? _Was_ there something wrong? He’d only just walked in. And Atem _had_ been looking right at him, so that was a good sign. Maybe. Was he still looking? He chanced a glance up, and—

“Yugi!” A friendly arm tugged him aside into half a hug. “Happy New Year! How wonderful to see you again.”

“Oh—Hey, Isis,” he sputtered out, brain ricocheting off course. “It’s great to see you too, Happy New Year.”

Isis released him and picked up a martini glass. “How was your trip?”

“It was great, it’s always nice to see my mom’s side. It’s so hard to visit when they live all the way in Niigata.”

“Of course, that’s such a long trip. All went smoothly I hope?”

“About a smoothly as it _can_ go, in the middle of the holidays.”

As the stolen conversation continued, Yugi was vaguely aware of everyone else in his party chatting with Atem—apparently Marik _had_ gotten them a table—and ordering drinks. He wasn’t sure if it was a better idea to hover around Isis until he worked up the nerve to turn around or get it over with as soon as possible.

Sadly, he never got to make the choice.

“Hey, Yug’,” Jou asked, and an elbow poked his back, “do you want anything?”

He whirled around with all the false confidence he could muster. “Sorry, sorry, she ambushed me.”

“Guilty as charged,” Isis admitted.

It wasn’t that funny, but Yugi laughed anyway, forcing himself to look right at Atem and smile. “Happy New Year, by the way.”

“Y-you too,” Atem replied. “Can I get you anything?”

_Could you ever. _“The usual is fine.”

Jou cut in with a low whistle. “This hotshot has a _usual_, how fancy.”

Yugi took the opportunity to shove Jou a little, privately sizing up the situation. This was going well. This was normal. Atem looked kind of dead on his feet, but that was to be expected. It was New Year’s Eve, and the place was packed. He’d probably been going for hours already.

“What kind of whiskey do you want?” Atem asked.

Oh. Right. _Uh…_

Yugi leaned on the counter to take a glance at the back shelf. “Do you still have that Hibiki Harmony?”

“Fresh out. But I do have a Yamazaki if you like.”

Who was he kidding, pretending like he was here for the alcohol? Atem could fill a glass with molasses and he’d choke it down with a smile—just for the gesture. Just to _be_ here. Yugi laced his fingers together, laughing at his own private joke.

“Just surprise me,” he said, and he really did mean it. “You know what I like at this point.”

And then he noticed—more than noticed, he _felt—_Atem watching him. Staring intently. Yugi’s throat locked up and he raced through the past thirty seconds to find the cause to this effect—the _reason_ for a look so intense.

But then it was over, and Atem was smiling casually. “Got it.” He widened his focus to the rest of the crowd gathered at the bar. “It’ll all be out in just a bit. Enjoy yourselves.”

Everyone promised they would, and drifted away. Yugi had no idea what to do except follow, hand trailing down the bar along with a question he wasn’t brave enough to ask: _Why did you look at me like that_?

It could have been nothing. It could _very easily_ have been nothing—a trick of the light, his own brain seeing things that weren’t there, wishful thinking, a hallucination brought on by the sudden change in temperature, _anything_. But a decent chunk of Yugi’s mind nagged at him, wanted him to run back up to the counter and _ask_, plain and simple, _What was that look for_?

He humored the tug and glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see Atem with his head tipped back, the edge of a now-empty shot glass pressed against his bottom lip. Seated on her stool, Isis said something—unintelligible from this far away and with so much noise—and raised her own glass to sip from. Atem narrowed his eyes and snapped something back, but she just laughed. Yugi couldn’t help a fond smile—they were more like siblings than cousins, most of the time. The last thing he saw before the crowd swallowed him up was Atem sighing at the shot glass, and moving to fill it again.

Even navigating the ocean of people in front of them, on the way to where he assumed Marik’s promised table was, couldn’t stop him from trying to figure out if this was _connected_ in some way. That look, Isis clearly teasing, two shots in a row. That was related, right? That had to mean something. Was it a good something? He really hoped it was a _good_ something…

“Happy New Year, losers!”

Marik’s characteristic greeting and the enthusiastic replies from all his friends pulled him away from speculation. He mentally shook himself off and called a _Happy New Year_ of his own—it was too early to be worrying. He didn’t even have a drink yet! All of that stuff could _wait_ for some other time. Tonight was about having _fun_, first and foremost.

“Were you waiting long?” Yugi asked, coming around the table. He handed out an awkward hug from behind Marik, sitting in front of a line of purple shots, with his feet kicked up on the nearest empty chair. Rishid was on the other side, as usual, and Yugi gave him a gentle fist bump.

“Not too long,” Marik answered, picking up a glass. “You’re lucky we could score this table anyway.”

Much closer than before, the current song from the karaoke stage blasted through the speakers. Everyone winced at the thumping beat and squawking performer—except the Ishtar brothers.

“Lucky?” Anzu repeated, gingerly taking her seat.

“_Hell yeah,_ it’s lucky,” Honda said. “You’ll get to see my amazing performance up close and personal.”

“Nah, dude.” Jou clapped him on the shoulder and sat down. “We’ll _suffer_ your ‘amazing’ performance.”

Yugi plopped into the nearest available seat, next to Anzu. “What if we all went up together and did something?"

Jou groaned, but Honda _beamed_.

“What song would have enough parts for all of us?” Ryou asked, waiting patiently at the chair Marik’s feet currently occupied. Within seconds, they disappeared, and Ryou sat down in their place.

“It doesn’t need to have that many _parts_. It just has to be long enough for all of us to get a turn.”

“Well count me out,” Jou declared, folding his arms behind his head. “You could not _pay me_ to get up there.”

Honda struck a pose. “I’ll take over your _spotlight_.”

“You’ll probably take out some of the patrons, too,” Anzu said. “And shatter a few glasses.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Marik frowned curiously. “It wasn’t?”

“I think,” Yugi said, “we should get a little closer to midnight before we start breaking stuff.”

“_Boo_. Lame.”

Any retort he could have made in his defense was drowned out by the singer on stage, ending their performance with a bang—and a voice crack or seven. The crowd applauded before they even finished, though in approval or relief was difficult to say. Yugi was a little of both.

Conversation lived and died on the whims of the karaoke machine, and as the next song started, catching up with friends was cut intermittently with everyone stopping to belt the chorus if they knew the words. When their drinks arrived—courtesy of Mai, and Yugi didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed—not even the risk of knocking one over could curb the infectious enthusiasm of an entire building of people singing poorly to a song they barely knew.

That energy proved nearly as intoxicating as the alcohol surrounding them. Yugi hadn’t even finished his first glass before he was laughing and singing like a complete idiot, too busy having fun to care about how he looked or sounded. His friends were much the same, especially Honda, who took everyone’s friendly heckling at his lack of singing talent in stride. It even managed to crack the concrete wall that was Rishid—but only when Marik encouraged him first.

“I’m still up there,” Anzu said, pushing her drink out of the way to set the scene for them. “My costume is broken. I’m about to do a jump that would tear it apart, and there’s and entire _minute_ of my solo left. I’m trying not to panic, because that would make it even more obvious, but obviously I’m _freaking _out.”

“Shouldn’t you train for this?” Jou asked.

“Train for the very specific scenario of a single costume being torn on stage?”

“You should at _least _have a protocol, so you’re not stuck up there with half a tutu or something.”

She shook her head. “The only protocol I’m aware of is ‘Keep smiling and get off-stage as fast as possible.’”

“Did you get off-stage?” Yugi pressed.

“I do my big jump.” Anzu stretched her arms gracefully, one right under her nose, and the other to the side. “And I can _feel_ it tear, right along the seam.” She dragged a finger up her torso. “I sprint off as fast as I can, I rip it off, and I got _so_ lucky that someone backstage noticed what was going on and went to get me a different outfit. I change in like fifteen seconds, I come back out in my completely different costume, and the audience _loses_ their minds.”

“That’s so nerve-wracking,” Ryou said, almost biting his nails.

“It was _the most_ stressful performance I’ve ever done.” She pulled her drink back. “But hey, no one noticed, and I even had some people tell me they loved my ‘costume transition dance’ so I’m off the hook.”

“Next time,” Honda said, leaning in to be heard over the music, “you should _really_ do a costume transition dance.”

Anzu sliced through the air with her hand. “_No_ thank you. Pass.”

“But it’d be _cool!_”

“Not worth the trouble.”

Honda opened his mouth, probably to protest, but was drowned out by an explosion of sound as the entire building howled the chorus of, “Livin’ On A Prayer,” along with the person on stage singing it. Yugi had stopped wincing every time, but being this close to the action meant it was _always_ a surprise. He rattled the ice around in his empty glass—he would need another one or two of these to enjoy it. Or at least tolerate it.

“I’m getting a refill,” he announced, careful to stand up without knocking anyone over. “Anyone else need anything?”

Nobody spoke up, so Yugi braced for impact and dove into the crowd. He headed in the general direction of the bar, arms tucked into his chest, muttering apologies every time he had to shove past someone too drunk to realize they were in his way. Breaking through the masses, destination in sight, felt like coming up for air.

And then he lost it again.

The first thing he saw was Atem, staring right at him and beaming—overjoyed, _ecstatic_—and the anxiety that had melted away with time came rushing back. Anxiety, and a strange sort of thrill—because if Atem was _this_ happy to see him… that couldn’t be a _bad_ thing, right?

Atem met him as he stepped up to the counter, and flopped his head into his hand. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite regular.”

Yugi couldn’t have stopped his smile if he tried, but tilted his head curiously. That was a remarkably confident statement. Atem was usually so nervous about stuff like that.

“I’m your favorite?” he asked.

Atem leaned in and hushed him dramatically. “Don’t let the others hear you, they might get jealous.”

Distractingly close, Yugi saw a familiar haze in his eyes. “You’re buzzed, aren’t you?”

He leaned away and shrugged. “Eh, maybe a little. Anyway, what can I do for you?”

A little relieved, Yugi put his glass on the counter. “A refill?”

Atem plucked it off the counter. “Can do. How’d you like the selection?”

“Oh, it was wonderful.” It wasn’t a lie—Atem did genuinely know his taste. “If you have more of that—”

Atem suddenly gasped, snapping his fingers. “I just remembered, we _just_ got this new single malt scotch in the other day. It’s called La- Laug- Lagavulin? Or something?”

Yugi laughed, any fears burned away watching Atem stumble over his own words. He tugged at one of the chains dangling from his ear for something to do with his hands. _Cute…_

“Is it good?” he asked.

“You’d love it. Here.”

Atem spun around to survey the wall of bottles behind him, and Yugi took a moment to breathe. He might be on the sober side right now, but this conversation was doing… _things_ to his inhibitions. It didn’t help that Atem was acting so _different_ now, so much more confident than Yugi was used to seeing outside of a game. All that focus—all the focus he could muster, anyway—wasn’t directed at a _win, _this time. It was all on Yugi.

It was a lot.

He was still coming to grips with it when Atem turned around with the Lagavulin bottle in his hands, held out for Yugi to inspect. It was an elegant shape, a slight bulb on the neck, with a label proclaiming the single malt scotch had been aged for sixteen years. The drink shone an enticing red-brown in the dim lights of the bar, the same warm color as the eyes burning beautiful, terrible holes into his restraint.

“That _does_ sound good,” Yugi said, nodding his approval.

Atem took the bottle back behind the counter. “Let’s pop it open then.”

Though Yugi’s drink of choice was about as simple as a drink could get, Atem made a show of it anyway. The whole time, he bobbed his head to the song that had taken over the karaoke stage, mumbling words half-legibly, and occasionally looking up at Yugi with another smile, like he was asking for encouragement. All Yugi could do was smile and nod back, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, except when he had the presence of mind to laugh.

Too quickly, Atem set Yugi’s glass back down in front of him with an elaborate flourish.

“One whiskey on the rocks,” he said, “for my _favorite_ regular.”

Yugi stared. He hung on the emphasis of that word for a lot longer than he normally would have. He glanced down at the whiskey and decided he needed it _very badly._

The momentary distraction disappeared when he took the first sip. “Wow, this is good,” he said.

Atem propped himself up on one arm, tipping his head lazily to the side. “You said it yourself. I know what you like.”

He winked and smiled and Yugi was glad he didn’t have anything in his mouth because he would have choked on it.

“Y-yeah,” he managed, with a breathless smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Atem popped up as if nothing had happened, rubbing his hands together. “Enjoy.”

“I—Yeah, I will.”

Yugi waddled away with his drink, and had to make a conscious effort not to down it all in a giant gulp. His hand fluttered to his ring for something to mess with, but not even _that_ could help him right now. This wasn’t a feeling that needed _soothing_, necessarily. Unless a cold shower counted as “soothing.”

He used the trek from bar back to the table as an excuse to pull himself together, letting the crowd’s butchered rendition of the newest karaoke song wash away any remaining impulses. Mostly.

“I’m back,” he said, sliding back into his seat. “What did I miss?”

Jou had his elbows on the table, propping his head up by massaging his temples. “Honda’s _awful_ singing.”

Honda shoved back his chair to stand. “Did somebody say singing?”

The entire table groaned, and Anzu begged, “_Please_ sit down.”

But it was too late. Honda added his voice to the masses, screeching the chorus along with the performer. Jou tried to yank him back down, Anzu sighed into her hands, Ryou leaned a healthy distance away with a nervous smile. Marik just threw back another shot—green, this time—and Rishid looked almost impressed. And Yugi…

Wasn't paying any attention at all.

Like a magnet drawn to its pair, he turned his head until it was staring back the way he’d just come, searching through the mass of people for even the smallest glimpse of the bar counter. Through gaps in arms and over people’s heads, Yugi caught flashes of Atem doing terrible air guitar moves in between mixing drinks and talking—or singing?—vaguely in Isis’ direction. Then the scene disappeared, and left Yugi searching again.

He stamped down impulse to march back over and stay there for the rest of the night, replacing it with more of the Lagavulin. It really was good—even drunk, Atem knew how to do his job. It was so clearly his _element_. He was obviously having a good time despite the people, the noise, and the work he was no doubt buried under. He almost wished the bar had events like this more often, so Yugi could see him _truly_ at work. It wouldn’t be worth trading the quieter nights, but—

“Hey, Yug’.”

Yugi snapped to attention. “Huh? Nothing.”

He winced at his own unneeded excuse, and Jou raised an eyebrow. He glanced over Yugi’s head and back, lips curling into an impish smile.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “‘Nothing,’ at all.”

Yugi did his best to brush it off. “Did you need something?”

Jou folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. “It’s fine, I can see you’re _busy_, so—”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“It’s not funny if I’m right.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“_No_, I really don’t.”

“So, we’re both going to pretend that you weren’t staring at—”

Yugi fished an ice cube out of his drink and chucked it across the table. “Shut up.”

Jou cowered from the flying ice, but recovered all too soon. “You're not fooling anyone.”

He gestured around helplessly. “Can someone make him shut up?”

“You are the only person capable of that,” Anzu told him.

“Why?” Honda asked, sitting down at last. “What’s going on?”

Jou gave Yugi a fierce grin. Yugi almost threw himself across the table. “Don’t—”

“He was—”

“Jou! Seriously!”

“Come _on_, Yug’—”

Yugi picked up his glass, a threat in his eyes. “This is going in your face if you keep talking.”

Jou met his gaze evenly. “Bet.”

He squared his shoulders and bounced on the balls of his feet, preparing to jump out of his chair and _huck_ that whiskey directly at Jou if he so much as _thought_ about breathing a word of this. Jou maintained steady eye contact and opened his mouth. Yugi gripped his glass—

“It’s Atem, right?”

So startled he forgot to be angry, Yugi whipped his head around and gawked. “_Ryou_?”

“Sorry,” Ryou said, with an apologetic smile. “I had a feeling. And you aren’t all that subtle, to be fair.”

Yugi flapped his jaw, not sure whether he was shocked, outraged, mortified, or all of them at once. What made matters worse?

Nobody else batted an eyelash.

“Is that all?” Anzu asked, looking to Jou for confirmation.

He threw his hands up. “_Yeah_, but _I_ wanted to do it, man.”

Ryou shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Eh,” Honda said. “It’s not like it would have been a huge reveal.”

Yugi gaped at all of them. “_Guys?”_

“What?” Anzu asked. “It’s not a big deal.”

“_I_ think it’s a big deal,” Jou protested, slumping in his seat.

“Is it _that_ big a deal if we all knew already?”

The rest of the conversation was lost to Yugi. He put his head down on the table and wrapped his arms around it. Anzu rubbed his back sympathetically.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” he complained.

Jou snorted. “That might be a good thing.”

“Shut up.” Yugi hauled himself back up and stuck his nose down his glass to erase the past five minutes from his memory.

“And I thought _I_ was dramatic,” Marik said.

Yugi shot him a pitiful glance. “Not you too, please.”

He flipped his hair. “I mean, _no_, not until right now, but now that I do know—”

Rishid cleared his throat. He gave Marik a very intense look.

Marik was unphased. “What?”

He didn’t say anything. Just shook his head, slowly.

“Alright, whatever.”

Yugi didn’t know what they were talking about, and he didn’t care. He slid one hand across the table, palm up, and beckoned toward the tray of shots. “Hit me. Please.”

Marik grinned and slid one of the glasses down the table. “_That’s_ what I’m talking about.”

As soon as it touched his fingers, Yugi snatched it up and threw it back. He coughed as the elaborate cocktail of who-knows-what burned down his throat.

“Happy _fucking_ New Year,” he muttered.

“No, no, no. Shut up. Shut up, that’s so wrong.”

Yugi leaned on the table, the karaoke blaring in his ears nearly washing out the sound of Marik’s _wrong_ account of the Nameless Pharaoh’s life. Which he absolutely could not stand for. He actually couldn’t stand _at all_ right now, but he needed to make this point.

“Ugh, oh my God,” Marik groaned, slumping down in his chair. “Fuckin’ whatever, Yugi, this guy’s so super dead. He’s not gonna care if—”

“The N’mless Pharaoh,” Yugi interrupted, loudly. “Didn’t—He wasn’t like, _asking_ for it, the getting dead thing. That priest guy, that dude? Was his like... They were like family or something, right?” The details of how, exactly, they were related slipped through his fingers, but he knew he was right. “Priest guy was totally like, ‘Yo, gimme all your power and stuff, I’ve got the right to rule,’ blah blah, like all the pharaohs did. And _then_—”

Marik blew a raspberry into the air. “Literally he sucked _so_ bad that everyone was like, ‘Hey, let’s fuckin’ _kill_ this guy.’”

“You _don’t_ even know—_Nobody_ knows what he ruled like! All we know is that he died a lot!”

“_I _should’ve been pharaoh. I would’ve been the _best_ fuckin’ pharaoh, guys.”

“No! No, you’re the _worst_—”

“Both of you,” Jou interrupted, throwing out his hands wildly. “Need to _stop_, just _stop_ talkin’ about dead guys, _please_.”

Yugi shook his head. It made him dizzy. “Nope, not gonna.”

“Don’t be mean,” Anzu scolded, squashing her own face as she held her head up. “They can talk about dead people or alive people or _any_ people—”

“Just a _different_ dead people,” Jou clarified.

“I only know _three_ dead people.” Yugi held up what was… probably three fingers. It felt like three fingers. “The pharaoh, the priest guy, the—the_ other_ priest guy?”

Marik flopped down on the table, stretching his arms as far as they could reach. “Yugi. Yugi. What about _the prophency_?”

“The prophecy?” Ryou corrected, carefully guiding him upright again.

“Whatever. Fuck.”

Yugi shook his head. “That’s not a dead person.”

Marik pointed at nothing. “A dead person had to _do it_. Write it _down_ and shit.”

That made sense. Yugi put up another finger. “Four. Four dead people.” He forgot why he was counting dead people. Did he have a point to this?

“I wish there weren’t dead people,” Honda remarked, staring sadly into his glass.

“There _has_ to be dead people,” Jou pointed out. “Or there’d be too many alive people.”

“I like dead people,” Yugi offered.

Marik raised his hand. “I also like dead people.”

“I think it’s one of our job requirements,” Ryou said.

“Everyone should like everyone,” Anzu sighed.

Yugi was still thinking about dead people. Which ones? All of them, probably. Dead people were so cool. They were alive before, but they _weren’t_ alive now. Everyone should like dead people.

_I wonder if Atem likes dead people_, he thought. Atem was really great and dead people were really great. So Atem _must_ like dead people. But he had to know for _sure_.

Yugi lurched to his feet and tried to remember which direction the bar was. He stared into the people—the _alive_ people—for a long time before he figured it out. He marched through the crowd once he did so. He was going to find Atem, and he was going to ask about dead people.

_Dead people, _he chanted, so he wouldn’t forget. _Dead people, dead people… Wow that’s a lot of people._

A big group swarmed the bar, hopping on their toes and looking over each other’s heads. A lot of them had their phones out, but Yugi couldn’t see what they were looking at. Curious, he found an emptier spot off to the side to stand in, so he could look on at an angle.

He gasped at what he saw—that was Atem! He wasn’t looking at any of the people in the crowd, instead laser-focused on juggling thee different bottles, catching and throwing them over and over. Yugi put his arms down on the counter, trying to get a better look. Watching the bottles go up and down made him a little dizzy, but he kept watching.

Atem suddenly spun around and Yugi gasped again, scared that they’d break—but he relaxed when Atem caught all the bottles just in time. He leaned on the counter a little more. That was scary! But Atem did it—of_ course_ he did it. He did all sorts of cool things.

Yugi clapped loud when it was over. Even though a lot of other people clapped too, he liked to think his was the _loudest_ clapping. Atem said something he couldn’t understand, but the crowd laughed, so Yugi laughed too.

“Can I get you something?”

Yugi jumped. “Wh—Oh, hi, Mai.”

She waved a little. “Happy New Year. Need something while you’re up here?”

He thought about it. He _did_ come up here for a reason, didn’t he? “I wanted to ask… uh…”

The crowd by Atem got loud again. Yugi whipped his head around just in time to catch Atem flip a bottle in his hand and catch it without even _looking_. That was so cool!

“He’s so cool,” Yugi muttered.

Mai chuckled. “He has his moments.”

“Mhmm.”

All at once, Yugi was overcome. He slumped over and put his head in his arms.

“Whoa, hey now,” Mai said, bending down to meet him. “You feeling alright?”

“What am I gonna _do_?”

“Do about what?”

Yugi pointed. He wasn’t looking, so he hoped he was pointing at Atem.

“Oh, alright then.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m not really sure _I’m_ the one you should be talking to about this.”

He picked his head up. “What do you mean?”

“You should talk to _him_ about it. Do something fun together. It’ll all work out.”

“Do something fun…”

Fun. Yeah, Yugi knew how to have fun. That was a good idea!

“Anyway, did you need—”

Yugi didn’t hear what she said. He was already going back to his friends. He shouldered his way through the crowd thinking about what he and Atem could do for fun. They did a lot of things that were fun already, but maybe it needed to be a _bigger_ kind of fun.

All around him people were singing and having fun. _That_ was a pretty big fun. Maybe they could do something like that. Maybe they could—

He gasped. He rushed as fast as he could back to the table, slapping it with both hands and making everybody jump.

“_Guys_,” he said, “I have a _great_ idea.”

Yugi stumbled through explaining it, taking suggestions as they were thrown at him, and grew even more convinced that it was a _fantastic_ idea. There was no way this could go wrong. It was _everything_ he needed to do to… uh… to…

“Wait,” Anzu interrupted. “Why are we doing this idea?”

“Because,” Yugi started, and stopped. What was doing this idea for? Oh yeah! “Because it’s _fun_.”

She nodded seriously. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” Jou said, waving his hand at Yugi to get his attention. “When are we _doing_ this?”

That was a good question. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it should be soon, right?

“Whenever,” Yugi decided. “Soon.”

“Whenever soon?”

“Yeah.”

“We should practice,” Anzu said, nodding seriously again. “We need to make sure it works first.”

Yugi took her by the arm and stood up. “Yes, let’s go. We’re gonna practice.”

He dragged her through the crowd and up to the stage, where the last notes of the current song were fading out. Perfect timing! He lurched to a stop and she stumbled into his side.

“I don’t know if I can practice,” she mumbled.

“Sure you can!” he insisted. He untangled her from his arms and pushed he toward the steps. “You can do it!”

Anzu staggered up the little stairs. “I can _do it_?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Yugi cheered her on as she stepped onto the stage, and hurried back to the table to watch her sing.

“What are you doing?” Jou asked him once he sat down.

“I’m watching.”

“Weren’t you going to practice?”

Oh yeah. Yugi was supposed to go up there too. But that was okay! It was all about having fun and Yugi loved to have fun.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t need to practice.”

Anzu started singing and he covered his mouth—he didn’t want to interrupt her song! He couldn’t tell what song it was, but she did a great job at singing it.

Everyone had already helped him pick out a song for his idea. He hoped he could sing it well. It was really hard to remember stuff for some reason, but he was going to do his best to sing it later. Soon. Whenever he decided he wanted to do it.

The longer Yugi watched Anzu sing, the more he wanted to do his idea _now._ It looked like so much fun, and everyone _around_ them was having so much fun. _He_ wanted to have fun, too! And this _would_ be fun, he was positive. It would be fun and everyone would have a good time.

The minute Anzu’s song ended, Yugi jumped out of his chair. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going—he just needed to _go_. He was going to find Atem, he was going to _do_ his idea, and they were going to have fun.

He almost jumped for joy when he saw Atem out in the crowd, not behind the bar. Maybe he knew Yugi’s idea already. Maybe he wanted to have fun!

Atem was also talking to someone. Someone who kept tugging his arm, and making him yank it back. Yugi frowned. That didn’t look like fun. And there was only one way to make sure Atem was doing something fun. He put on a big smile.

“Atem!” Yugi called, stepping up right behind him and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Yugi?” he asked.

Yugi ignored him. Atem had been talking to _two_ people, two women, and one of them looked a little confused as to why he showed up.

“Sorry, ladies,” he told them, secretly not sorry. “I have to steal him from you.”

The confused lady looked back and forth between them. The confusion melted away. “_Ooh_,” she said. “Yeah, man, you two have a good time.”

Yugi squished their heads together and waved goodbye. “We will,” he promised, and meant it. They were going to have the _best_ time.

He swung them around, pulling Atem along toward the fun. He kept his arm where it was so he wouldn’t forget to go on stage this time, but Atem wasn’t holding onto him back. Weird. He wanted Atem to hold onto him back.

“Thanks,” Atem said, after a bit of walking. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get away from them.”

Atem took Yugi’s arm off his shoulders and lifted it over his head. Which—no. No, he wasn’t allowed to do that. Yugi linked their arms together instead. Now Atem would have no choice but to hold onto him back.

“No problem,” Yugi said. “I could see you were, like, trying to get away so I _did_ something, y’know?” He almost frowned again when he remembered Atem tugging his arm away over and over, but it was okay. That was over now.

“You’re tipsy.”

“Nah, not even a little bit.”

A table suddenly appeared in their path. Yugi swerved to avoid it, tugging Atem around it and tripping over his own feet on the way.

“Maybe a little bit,” he admitted.

“I think you need to go sit down.” Atem gently pushed Yugi to the side, away from him.

Yugi pouted, trying to find a way to grab him back. “Aw, come on.”

“I have to take care of something anyway. Go, sit, drink water.”

Then he disappeared into the crowd. Yugi huffed, arms disappointingly empty. He tugged at his collar a bit, slumping away. He’d try to carry out his idea later, when Atem wasn’t doing something else.

Anzu was in her seat when Yugi got back to the table. He flopped down next to her, resting his chin in his hands.

“You did good at practicing,” he told her.

“Thanks,” she said. She leaned over to give him a limp hug. “Where did you go?”

He pouted into her shoulder. “I went to do my idea, but Atem had to do something else.”

“What was it?”

“Dunno.”

“Tell him to do this instead.”

“I tried! I tried to, but—”

The lack of new song and the scratch of a microphone caught Yugi’s attention. He lifted his head off Anzu, and anything he might have been upset about before evaporated into the night.

“Hey everyone,” Atem said, greeting the room from up on the stage, “it’s getting to be about that time.”

Yugi gasped and turned Anzu’s head for her, pointing. “Look, look!”

“I’m looking,” she promised.

He shushed her and promptly buried his head in his arms, turning just enough that he could still see what was going on. It was hard to focus, though he desperately wanted to, and he couldn’t decide where any of his body parts should go. He wanted to scream a little bit, but that would interrupt Atem, so he didn’t.

Yugi did his best to listen intently, despite most of the words not making sense. He confused them in his brain, mixing them around with his own thoughts until they were meaningless, until he was processing a voice through low-quality speakers and nothing else.

But it was okay. His head felt fuzzy, he couldn’t walk in a straight line, and if he looked around too fast he got dizzy, but more than any of that, Yugi was happy. Happy to be here, in this building, at this table, with all his friends. Happy to listen, even if he didn’t understand. Happy to see Atem again. It had been a long time.

“—and a very special group of friends I made this year.”

As if reading his thoughts, Atem looked down at their table and waved at them all. Jou and Honda whooped, Anzu and Ryou laughed, and Yugi waved back. He propped his head up to watch the rest of the speech properly.

There wasn’t much left _to_ watch, it turned out. Atem looked at his watch and started counting down the seconds to the new year. Dozens of voices around the building joined him.

“Yugi,” Honda said, shaking his arm.

“What?” he asked.

“What if we do your idea right now?”

Yugi nodded enthusiastically. He got everyone else’s attention. “Guys, we’re doing the plan.”

“Right now?” Ryou asked.

“Yes, right now, let’s go.”

The countdown finished as soon as they all stood up. Yugi used the cover of the celebration to muscle his way through the crowd, even ducking under people sometimes. He was on a mission.

“What are you all doing up here?” Mai asked, once they finally made it to the stage.

Yugi looked at the stage, then back at her. “Something fun?”

She gave him an odd look, then backed up against the wall and shook her head. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Yugi took two bounding steps toward the stage just in time to catch Atem as he stepped down.

“Hey guys,” he said, with a friendly smile. “What’s the big—_oof._”

Everyone dove for Atem at once, Yugi hauling him back up by the arm and the rest of his friends helping him back up the stairs. Yugi shoved a microphone into his hand and then turned around to mess with the karaoke machine. The buttons flashed a spectrum of colors when he pressed them.

“Uh,” Atem said, amplified by the mic. “I guess I’m back?”

Yugi finally got to the section of songs he knew was in here somewhere—_Disney_. He heard footsteps.

“What the hell are you doing?” Atem asked him.

“You _mean_,” Yugi said, turned around and showing off the second microphone, “what the hell are _we_ doing.”

“What?”

Atem stared, baffled, at the mic in his hand. He looked back up at Yugi, who smiled brightly. This was going to be _so much fun_.

“No,” Atem decided, and turned around.

Yugi frowned at the back of his head, trying and failing to snatch him back. He rolled his eyes and went back to picking a song. That’s where the rest of the idea fell into place. Marik had mentioned Atem would probably say no, so obviously they had to come up with a back-up plan. They couldn’t let him miss out on all the fun! And judging from the scuffling Yugi heard, Atem was trying very hard to miss out on the fun.

“My friends, everyone,” he announced to the crowd, “Betraying me.”

“Come on,” Yugi said, hardly glancing up, “it’ll be fun.”

“Maybe for _you_.”

Yugi almost told him that was the _point_, but the conversation fell out of his brain when he finally found it: _the song_. He punched the button to choose it, and the machine lit up in a dozen colors.

“I’m _not_ doing this,” Atem insisted, jamming the microphone back in its holder.

Yugi didn’t even look at him. He just turned to face the crowd as the music started, and heard those determined footsteps die in their tracks.

“_Hakuna Matata_,” Yugi sang. He saw Atem hang his head out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help a grin as he plucked the second microphone out of its spot. “_What a wonderful phrase_.”

Atem finally turned around, snatching the outstretched mic from Yugi’s hand. “You owe me one.”

Yugi laughed through the next line. “_Hakuna Matata_.”

“_Ain’t no passing cra-aze!”_

It was the fastest and slowest performance Yugi had ever done in his life. While he was up on the stage, singing along to words he could barely remember, it felt like hours. Tripping over the high notes and over his own feet during the instrumental break, taking breaks to laugh in the middle of the song, dizzy in a different way that before—it was the best. It was exactly the fun he’d wanted.

By the end, it still didn’t feel long enough. He threw his arm around Atem again, bowing to the crowd, and half of him wanted to do it all again. They’d only just gotten up there, and now they had to stop.

“I’m going back down there,” Atem told everyone, pointing down at the bar, “and I _will not_ be up here again. Goodnight.”

Yugi laughed as Atem slipped out from under him again, following him down the stairs and wanting more than anything to pull him back up. To do _one more_, to have more fun. But a single step off the stage made him realize how _tired_ he was.

Before he had time to think, Yugi was swept up into a massive ball of moving arms and congratulations, which he happily returned as best he could. He wrapped his arms around the first person who came within reach—he couldn’t even tell who it was—squeezing them with all the energy his body could muster.

“Guys,” Atem wheezed, from somewhere in the middle of it all, “you’re kind of crushing my everything.”

Yugi let go along with everyone else. He stumbled backwards into Anzu, who helped him stay upright. He wrapped an arm around her in return.

“You both did amazing,” she said.

“Totally awesome,” Honda agreed.

“Can we take this chat down there?” Atem asked, gesturing back at the bar. “I have to get back to work.”

“We’ll meet you down there,” Jou promised, shooing him away. “Go get paid and shit.”

“Will do.”

Atem left and Yugi watched him go, a big smile glued to his face. The rest of his friends started to peel off, but Yugi couldn’t bring himself to move. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. Everything was good. Everything was wonderful.

Someone jostled his shoulder. “Hey, Yugi, check this out.”

Yugi stumbled around and saw Marik. “What? Check what?”

With no further prompting, Marik shoved his phone under Yugi’s nose, too close to be useful. Yugi fumbled for it, prying it out of Marik’s hands and holding it a reasonable distance away. What he saw made him gasp.

It was a video of his performance—his _and_ Atem’s performance. It was shaky and blurry, but still _them_. It had all their laughing, all their singing, all their dancing.

“Oh, wow,” Yugi sighed, smiling at it.

“You guys,” Marik said, hooking an arm around his neck, “are _so_ fuckin’ funny.”

Yugi barely heard him. “I think everyone should see this.”

“Everyone? Like, _everyone_?”

“Yeah.”

“I can _totally_ post it.”

Yugi nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes. For _everyone_.”

Marik snatched his phone back and pumped his fist. “_Hell_ yes.”

Yugi gave him a fist-bump, wiggling his fingers in a mock explosion, which confused the both of them when Marik didn’t do one.

“Okay,” Yugi said. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Yugi turned around and went to go find his friends. And get a drink. He wanted a drink. And he knew _exactly_ who to ask for one.

He was tired. He was tired, his head felt heavy, and he couldn’t see straight. But he was happy. Really, really, _really_ happy.

Yugi sat in his spot—he had his own_ spot_—at the bar, with his best friends in the whole world, at his favorite place in the whole world. He didn’t know when the Pharaoh’s Throne had become his favorite place, but it was.

They were all talking about something. Yugi wasn’t listening to them. He just watched Atem clean something behind the bar. He was always cleaning something. Did he ever get tired of cleaning things? Yugi suddenly wanted to help him clean things. He was _great_ at cleaning things. He tipped his almost-empty beer bottle to one side and then the other. The drink sloshed around inside. He smiled. _Cleaning_.

“I had fun,” Atem said. Yugi looked up and saw Atem looking at him, too. “_We_ had fun.”

He nodded. He had no idea what he was agreeing with, but if Atem had fun, it must have been good. Everyone started talking again, and Yugi let it all fade back into meaningless noise. He was too tired to talk with them. He didn’t really have anything to say, anyway.

Other than that he was happy. _Really_ happy.

A weird sound played. It took him a few seconds to recognize it—his ringtone. Someone was calling him.

“’Scuse me,” he said, slipping off the stool with his bottle and fishing his phone out of his pocket.

Once it was out, he swiped open the call without even checking to see who it was. It didn’t matter. It was probably someone calling to wish him a Happy New Year. The _happiest_ new year ever. This one was the best one.

“Hell_oooooo_?” he sang, skipping to the back of the room where it was quieter. “Oh! And Happy New Year!” he added, twirling around with a big smile on his face. He couldn’t help it—he was _so happy_.

“Are you _drunk_?”

The smile melted off his face.

Yugi wasn’t happy anymore.

“What d’you want, Seto?” he muttered. He folded his arms into his chest.

“So you _are_ drunk.”

“So?” He stumbled into an empty chair, sending it screeching across the floor on his journey to… somewhere. Somewhere else. “It’s New Year’s.”

“It _is_ New Year’s. And I suppose you’re too drunk to remember I invited you, _personally_, to—”

“I don’t care.”

Yugi stopped by the abandoned karaoke stage and leaned against the wall, taking a swig from his bottle. The other end of the line went silent. Yugi almost thought he’d been hung up on.

“What do you mean,” Seto began, as if he couldn’t quite believe it, “you don’t _care_?”

“That I _don’t care_.”

“KaibaCorp events are _exclusive_—”

“Just shut up.”

Another spell of silence. Yugi swallowed.

“What did you just—” Seto began, but was quickly interrupted.

“I said _shut up_.” Yugi took another swig from his beer and continued with renewed confidence. “I don’t care how special your company is, you can’t just expect me to show up to your stuff after months—_months_—of not even talking and never _one_ apology. You haven’t even _tried _to think about how _I_ feel—”

“I’ve been _trying_ to make things right between us.”

“Then say you’re sorry.”

“Yugi, you’re being _ridiculous_—”

“No.” Yugi pushed himself off the wall and marched to the empty back corner of the bar. “No, _you’re_ being ridiculous. You can’t just ignore what you did and act like nothing happened. You can’t pretend you didn’t hurt me and expect me to _forget_ about it because you don’t want to be wrong!”

His vision blurred. He blinked, but it didn’t help. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and startled himself when it came away black. And wet.

Seto sighed—frustrated, like he was dealing with an unruly toddler. “Where are you?”

“With my friends,” Yugi snapped.

He snorted. “Please. I’d hear them braying like mules if you were anywhere _near_ them.”

Yugi spun around and gestured across the bar through the crowd, forgetting that Seto wouldn’t be able to see. “They’re right here, and we _were_ having a good time before _you_—”

“Yugi, if you’re drinking alone on New Year’s, you don’t have to lie about it. You can just tell me.”

“I’m _not_ lying!” More angry tears sprung to his eyes. He swiped them away furiously. “I’m not _alone_. Just because you don’t think I can have fun without you doesn’t mean I’m always by myself.”

“’Fun.’ Sure, you could call it that.” The retort was accompanied by the clacking of a keyboard. Working, as always.

Yugi wanted to spit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” More typing, and some clicks. Did he _ever_ take breaks? “I just hope you’re not wasting your time.”

“Wasting time? By hanging out with my _friends_?”

“By—” He broke off, with a confused laugh that was more of a cough. “I’m sorry, were you _singing_ tonight?”

Yugi froze. “What?”

“Please tell me this video of you is some sort of elaborate joke.”

His phone pinged. Yugi pulled it back to see Seto had texted him a link to the same video Marik had showed him, posted on his account. The one Yugi had _encouraged_ him to post.

It had a location tag.

_Shit_.

Numb and flushed all at once, Yugi put the phone back against his ear. “I…”

Seto scoffed. “I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then.”

From the other end of the line, there was a swift rustle, and the slam of a door.

Yugi was frantic, pacing around in nervous circles. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming to get you, obviously. If you’re _that_ drunk—”

“Don’t.” He whipped his head around, as if Seto would suddenly appear out of thin air. “Leave me alone.”

“You were singing Disney songs with a stranger. There is no way you can get home by yourself.”

“He’s not a stranger, I’m fine.”

Another door slam. “You don’t seriously expect me to believe that, do you?”

Caught between frustrated and terrified, Yugi growled, “_Yes_, I do! I can meet people, I can have a life outside of you, I can—”

“For the _love_ of—Fine. If he’s not a stranger, then who is he?”

“My boyfriend.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them properly. He stopped his tracks. More tears came.

On the other end of the line, Seto laughed. “You’re _really_ going to pull that one on me? Honestly, Yugi, I thought you were—”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Yugi repeated, as if that would make it true. “His name is—”

“How long have you been together?”

His sluggish mind tried to come up with a reasonable date. “November.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious!”

“I don’t believe you.” A mechanical growl filled the receiver. “I’m on my way, so—”

“Don’t!” Yugi ducked into the short hallway where the bathrooms were lined up, trying his hardest not to panic. “I said _leave me alone_.”

Not panicking wasn’t working. Seto knew where he was. He was _on his way_. Yugi had to do something.

“I’m not going to argue about this,” Seto declared.

“I’m not arguing,” Yugi insisted. He ducked into the nearest open stall and locked the door behind him. It was hard to stand, so he slid to the floor. “I’m _telling_ you to _stop_.”

“Stop what? Stop trying to _help you_?”

“You’re not _helping _me!” He meant to shout it, but it came out a sob. He swiped at his eyes with the collar of his shirt. It stained black. “You think you’re helping me, but you’re _not_. You’re trying to control my life when you’re not even a part of it anymore.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Yours!”

“_Mine_? How is it _my fault_ that you completely cut me out? You complained about not talking for _months_, but _I’m_ the one who reached out. You’re the one who stopped picking up your damn phone.”

“I cut you out of my life because I don’t want you _in it_ anymore!”

“Maybe if you’d take the time to _listen _to me—”

“There’s nothing to _listen_ to.” Yugi choked back another sob with the rest of his beer. He put it down, and immediately knocked it over with a wild gesture. “You can’t talk your way out of this—I’m _done_. _We’re_ done.”

“You used to go on and _on_ about your precious fucking _forgiveness_, your second _fucking_ chances. Where’s _my_ second chance, huh? Where’s _my_ forgiveness?”

“I _can’t_ forgive you for this! You can’t—” He curled a shaking hand in his hair and whimpered through another wave of tears.

“One girl, Yugi! One girl in _six years_—”

“It was someone I knew! Someone I had _been_ with, and you _knew_—you did it on purpose, and I _know_ you did it on purpose, so don’t pretend—”

“That’s _asinine_. Are you _listening_ to yourself?”

“You did it to hurt me and—and make me think less of myself, but it didn’t work!” He streaked the back of his hands with more tears and runny eyeliner. “You didn’t respect me then, and now you _still_ don’t respect me, so I can’t forgive you because you haven’t _changed_.”

“The only person who isn’t respecting you is _you_! If you respected _yourself_ enough to grow up and recognize a good thing if it hit you in the face—”

“Maybe I did!” He tore the phone away from his ear and sob-shouted into the receiver. “Maybe I grew up enough to recognize that a good thing was someone _other than you_!”

Yugi slammed the End Call button, curled his knees into his chest, buried his head in his arms, and broke down.

His sobs were deafeningly loud in the tiny room, bouncing off the tile, amplified in his ears, and it only made him cry harder. The knowledge of where he was, why he was there, and what had just happened screamed at him over and over again. He curled into himself until his fingers and toes shook from the effort.

It had all gone so wrong, and the worst part was knowing he could have done more to keep it from happening. He could have blocked Seto’s number, he could have changed his own, he could have outright denied the invitation instead of letting it sit there and giving Seto the opportunity to keep asking if he was coming.

But what for? Yugi never expected this. This wasn’t anything he was prepared to deal with. He’d never planned for something like this to happen, and he had no idea what to do. He didn’t even know what _Seto_ was going to do once he got here. He doubted it was to actually take him home, and even if he did, it was unlikely he’d just drop Yugi off on his front steps and leave. He’d stick around. He’d keep trying to make whatever point he was trying to make with the same arguments as always—being better, being responsible, being _right_.

Yugi wasn’t going to go with him. He wasn’t going to leave this building, and he wasn’t going to get in whichever car Seto pulled up in. He was going to stay right here.

No… what if Seto came inside?

Change of plans. Yugi had to get out of here. Now.

He sniffed and coughed, groping above him for the paper towel dispenser. He used the few he grabbed to swipe his face dry. The rough material scraped against his cheeks. He crumpled them into tiny balls in his fists. How _was_ he going to get out of here?

He couldn’t drive, he was too drunk. It wouldn’t be safe. He could call a rideshare, but then he’d have to wait outside for it. Seto would _definitely_ get here first, and it would be easy to follow him home—would he do that? Yugi wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to risk it.

Maybe he could ask—no, everyone else was drunk, too. Everyone except Ryou, maybe, but if he went out to ask, they’d ask him why he was upset. And then they might talk to Seto when he got here, and that was another level of unknowns Yugi didn’t even want to _consider_.

He couldn’t do anything. He just had to sit here and _wait_. He bit down on his own fist to muffle another round of sobbing.

A soft knock at the door. He cringed at the possibilities of who it could be—

“Hello?” asked a familiar voice. “Is everything okay?”

Yugi’s heart stopped. He picked his head up. “Atem?”

The ride home was a blur. Yugi fell asleep and woke up four different times before he even remembered getting through the door. The last thing he knew before passing out for good was that he was lying on something comfortable, warm and safe, being gently lulled to sleep by a deep voice saying things in a language he couldn’t understand.

And the first thing he knew when he woke up in the morning was that he was _never_ drinking again.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and everything hurt—without exception.

Yugi buried his face in the pillow he was hugging. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open with the comfort of darkness to aid him. Then, _slowly_, he pulled the pillow down…

“_Fuck_,” he repeated, to no one in particular. The concept of hangovers, maybe.

It was too bright. Every light in the house was off and it was still too bright. A tiny sliver of sunlight peeked through his curtains and it was an _outrageous_ offense. His head had started a band where the only instrument was percussion. His stomach was at war with itself. _Everything_ sucked.

Yugi let go of the pillow to rub his eyes, but froze when he saw sleeves on his wrists he didn’t recognize. All the way up his arms and down his torso, he found himself wrapped in a fluffy coat that didn’t belong to him.

He flushed a little, and his stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with his hangover. He curled back up, hugging himself with the borrowed coat. Maybe not _everything_ sucked.

“_Mrow!_”

Yugi winced at Yami’s call, like pieces of broken glass being shoved down his ear canals. The cat didn’t seem to take the hint that he should be quiet, yowling again.

_He must want food,_ Yugi reasoned, though he still didn’t unwrap himself. _What time is it_?

“_Mro-ow!_”

“_Okay_,” he relented. He peeled himself off the couch. “I’m up. I’m going. I’m up.”

Not a moment too soon, either. Yami appeared the foot of the couch as Yugi haltingly got to his feet. He swished his thin black tail and sat back on his hind legs, pawing at the air. “_Mrow!_”

“I know, buddy. I’m getting your food right now.”

Yami scampered away to the kitchen. Halfway there, he stopped and looked over his shoulder, as if to check that Yugi was still coming.

And he was. He shuffled like an old man, clutching his stomach and squinting to try and make the world stop spinning so fast, but he was on his way. Slowly. He’d get there eventually.

It was only when his feet hit the kitchen tile that Yugi realized he was still wearing his boots. He shot them a withered look, but couldn’t bring himself to bend down to unlace them. Or go as far as the front door to put them where they belonged.

“_Mrrp_?” Yami chirruped, rubbing up against his legs.

“I know,” Yugi sighed. He creaked downward to give his cat a friendly scratch. “You’re starving, I get it.” Making good on his word, he waddled over to the food bowl. “Hey, you didn’t even eat everything I set out last night."

Yami shook himself, innocently blinking up at Yugi.

“I knew I was going to be out late,” he explained, picking up the bowl anyway. “That’s why I gave you extra. You _can_ eat this, it’s for you.”

“_Mrow_.”

He set the bowl on the counter and got down the cat food from the high cabinet he kept it in to prevent thefts. “If you think I’m filling it that high again, you’re out of your little kitty mind.”

Yami didn’t have any protests that time. He weaved in and out of Yugi’s legs, purring.

“Yes, I know, you’re too adorable for me to stay angry.”

Instead of wasting the uneaten kibble, Yugi poured half a scoop of fresh food into the bowl and mixed it in with everything else. When he set it back down, Yami pounced on it, happily chomping away. Worked every time.

“You’re very cute,” Yugi told him, patting him on the back. “And a little stupid.”

Yami ignored him, too busy burying his face in his breakfast.

Yugi straightened himself up a little too fast and his head spun like a carousel. His stomach made some objections of its own. He stumbled to the kitchen sink and bent himself over it. Luckily, nothing happened, but the unmistakable taste of bile coated the back of his throat. He looked down at himself.

_I should take this coat off,_ he thought. If he did end up vomiting up last night’s mistakes, he’d much rather his _own_ clothes be among the casualties. Not something Atem had… sort of lent him?

Yugi peeled his arms out of the coat, and set it to the counter at his side. He ran his fingers down the fuzzy, soft inside. Before he could stop himself, the coat was in his arms again, hugged to his chest. He put his face in it, smothered himself in the collar. He’d been wearing it all night, so there wasn’t much left to detect, but if he breathed deep and closed his eyes, he could imagine the way it smelled when he fell asleep in it. _Like Atem…_

Yugi put the coat down. The world was still spinning when he opened his eyes, and he couldn’t tell what had caused it this time.

His stomach lurched—it was the hangover. _Definitely_ the hangover.

_Step one_, he decided, taking the risk to bend over and unlace his boots. _Different clothes_.

Once his shoes were back in their proper place, Yugi set off for his room as fast as his hangover would let him. His dizzy fingers had undone all the buttons on his shirt before even reaching the door—he tossed it away as soon as he had a place to throw it. He upturned his pockets, threw everything onto his bed, and shimmied out of his jeans. He replaced them with a t-shirt and sweatpants, collapsing onto his bed with the intention to go back to sleep until everything stopped hurting.

He came face to face with his phone, instead, blinking with a dozen notifications. He swiped through them just to clear the home screen—some social media pings, some texts, he cleared them all out…

Except one.

Yugi tapped open exactly _one_ text message, from several hours ago, with a dumb smile.

**Other Me 9:23am**

_how are you feeling_?

He pressed it to his chest and rolled over to stare at it some more. He almost didn’t want to respond, but now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t resist.

**Yugi 12:48pm**

_ughughsfghfguhug_

The first message was from so long ago, Yugi didn’t expect a response so soon after the fact. But his heart leapt when Atem responded almost immediately.

**Other Me 12:48pm**

_that good, huh?_

Was that funny? Yugi didn’t care if it was funny. He laughed like an idiot.

**Yugi 12:48pm**

_don’t patronize me, i’m suffering_

**Other Me 12:49pm**

_call it payback_

**Yugi 12:49pm**

_for what?_

**Other Me 12:49pm**

_for making me sing last night_

The memory was only sweet for the few seconds it took for Yugi to conjure it up. His chest constricted with the knowledge of everything that happened afterwards.

He swallowed it. There was no need to think about that anymore. What’s done was done, and he was safe at home.

**Yugi 12:50pm**

_(_ _╥_ ___ _╥_ _)_

**Other Me 12:50pm**

_i recommend a hot shower and aspirin_

**Yugi 12:50pm**

_noted _

**Yugi 12:51pm**

_thanks again for getting me home, i definitely owe you_

**Other Me 12:51pm**

_no you don’t_

A predictable answer, but not one Yugi was going to take lying down. Even though he was literally lying down, and didn’t intend to move for several hours.

**Yugi 12:51pm**

_yes i absolutely do_

**Other Me 12:51pm**

_like i said, i don’t need a reason to help someone i care about. i don’t need compensation either. _

_Stop being wonderful_, Yugi complained, though it wasn’t much of a complaint, if he was being honest. And regardless of how much Atem didn’t need it, Yugi fully intended to make up for it. Somehow.

**Yugi 12:52pm**

_still, thank you. i’m serious. _

**Other Me** **12:52pm**

_anytime. i’m also serious_

Yugi wasn’t sure how much farther he was willing to dive past that. Atem didn’t need to know more than what he already knew, right? Finding Yugi curled up in the bathroom was enough. He definitely saw what was on his phone, but drunk calling an ex-boyfriend was normal. Atem saw that all the time—Yugi knew it for a fact. It was fine.

Although… Atem _probably _deserved to know Yugi had accidentally made up a fake relationship to be in, in which he was the other half. But… later. Not right now.

_Never_, whispered a tiny voice in his head, that he knew was wrong to listen to. But it was very convincing.

**Other Me 12:53pm**

_while we’re on the subject of getting you home, actually_

**Other Me 12:53pm**

_you were rambling a lot on the ride back_

Oh no.

The car ride was a half-asleep smudge in his memory, and the persistent headache wasn’t going to let him do much thinking back. Had he told Atem already? Had he said something _worse_?

**Other Me 12:54pm**

_you told me about your ex – seto kaiba. you told me his name_

**Other Me 12:54pm**

_i figured you hadn’t told me before now for a reason, and that you’d want to know when it happened, especially after whatever happened the other night _

Yugi heaved a sigh of relief. Not ideal, but nothing that swiftly ignoring it couldn’t fix.

**Yugi 12:55pm**

_thank you for letting me know_

**Yugi 12:55pm**

_can we not talk about it right now?_

The less Atem knew about Seto, the less they would know about each other, and the less likely it was that Atem would figure out just how badly Yugi had fucked up last night. And even though Seto didn’t believe his lie—because it was _obvious_—he always had plausible deniability as long as they never came face-to-face.

All Yugi had to do was keep Atem and Seto from meeting face to face. Ever. In their entire lives.

**Other Me 12:55pm**

_say no more_

**Other Me 12:55pm**

_i’ll leave you to suffer in peace_

**Other Me 12:56pm**

_pieces, rather_

Yugi grew a tight, nervous smile. Suddenly, the hangover wasn’t the most painful thing in his head right now.

**Yugi 12:56pm**

_don’t worry_

**Yugi 12:56pm**

_i will_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heehee hoohoo… next chapter… :3c

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr as livingthedragonlife or on my writeblr as ink-flavored! any and all comments/feedback are appreciated! <3


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